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'f^''^
<'.
X UNTA 1. 1.: N K
. A>..- > .»j /..,
THE
Zn^
ESSAYS /^/iS^
OF
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE.
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH,
\ntn TEST COimOERABLE
AMENDMENTS AND IMPROVEMENTS
raox
THE MOST ACCURATE FRENCH EDITION OF
PETER COSTE.
IN THREE VOLUMES
LONDON:
1>AINTE0 FOR W. MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET ; WHITE AND
COCHRANE, FLEET STREET ; AND LACKIN6T0N, KImUL}^^ AND
CO., FINSBURY SQUARE;
B^ C. Baldvrio, New Brfdge-itreet.
1811.
/
\
. v
i.vi.JK'
(/1>
THE
PREFACE
TO THE
SEVENTH ENGLISH EDITION
OP
MONTAIGNE'S ESSA^'
^ xx^ ^aaa versjpn of these Essays was
published in the year 1603, by Mr. Mono,* but
they were much better translated in the reign of
king Charles II. by Charles Cptton, Esq. (famous for
his witty poetry on the Wonders of the Peak), and
George Savil, marquis of Hallifax, then lord privy*
seal, and afterwards president of the council, to
whom that translation was dedicated, hououred it
with his special approbation, by the flawing- letter
to the translator, at his house at Berisford,'ini l)erby-
shire.
* This gentleman^ whose ancestors were the Horii of Sienna, in
Tuscany, was for some time a teacher at Ms^gdalen College, in the
University of Oxford ; and, afler king James I. came to the crown,
was appointed tutor to prince Henry, in the Italian and French
tongues ; and compiled a Dictionary, Italian and English, which
«i first printed at London, in 1.^97. Having lived to a good old
-B, he died at Fulham, of the plague, in 1625.
a 2
PREFACE,
« Sir,
** I have too long delayed my thanks to you far giving me
'^ such an obliging evidence of your remembnuice: That aloatf
^' wouldhavebeenvwekwifpieaeatj kutiriien joined with the
'* bode in the virorld I am best entertained with, it raiseth a stroiig
'^ desire in me to be better known, where I am sure to be so
^ much pleased. 1 have, until now, thought wit could not be
^ translatecti and (|q still itetUQ so much of th^t opbion, that I
" believe it impossible, except by one whose genius oometh up to
^ that of the author. You have the original strength of hii
^ thought, that it alitiost tempts a man to believe the transroigra-
^ tion of souls ; and thai his, being used to hiU^ is come into the
** moor-lands, ic reward us here in England, fordoing him more
'^ right than his counuy will afford him. He hath by your
^^ means mended his first editioB. To transplant and itiake
*' him ours, is not only a valuable acquisition to us, but«^
"Just oensuve ot the critical impertinence of diose Fvendi
*' s0ibblara, who have taken pains to make Httle cavUs and ex*
(« ceptioBs to lessen the reputation of ihisgreat maii, whom
^' ^ture hath ma^ too big to con^e him to the exact-
<f ness of a studied style. He let his mind have its full fliight,.
" and showeth, by a generous kind of negligeiice, tliat he did
•* not write fbr praise, but to give the world a true picture of
^ hiaaself, and oF mankind. He scorned affected periods, or to
^ pleasB the mistaken reader with an empty chine of woids
*^ He bath m aflbctim ta set bimsctf o«t, and dependeth whoUjr
'f upon the natural force of what is his own, and the excellent
" application of what he borroweth.
'' You see, sir, I have kindness enough for Monsieur de Mon-p
« taigne to be your rival ; but nobody can now pretend to be in
" equal competition with you : 1 do willingly yield it is no small
*^ matter for a man, to do to a more prosperous lover; and if
" you will repay this piece of justice with another, pray believe,
<< thi^t he wlio can translate such an author Witlvxit doing torn
^ wrong, miisi not only make me glad, but proud of bemg hk
^ Very humUe Servant,
'' Hallifax/'
PA£FJIC£.
Td the Gdttimendaiiab c^f Moiftaign«> ^nd bi^ in^
genious translator, by so great a man, it i^ b«
needless to aild IMyre ; but it may be jn^stttned ihe
reader WiB hens «xfiedt to be satkfled, whefete this
k to ttiti6h preferable tiaf aiiy of the fbriner 6(ttiioltt
mEnglMi-
Mr. Cdttoti indeed suigeedded to a mimde in hii
trdiislatioii of So Geletoate4 a piece : and we tf A
thoroughly pers\iaded that very few Frenohmra^
except pet^htfps «>me iiMiVes of Guienne, w^e th<^
to utidertAke the task, would And theimelvM oa^
ble of turnling Montaigne's Essays into inodeMi
French, with the s^me spirit, and the same jastict
to the ^thoir i but yet our translator was fkr (torn
fai&Uible. He had certainly one of the mo^t difl^ '
«hilt books in the world to struggle wiA, as be OoIb^
plained himself in his Pre&ce, when he says, ^^ The
^^ language of his original was in many places so
^^ ungrammatical and abstruse, that though he un-^
** derstood French as well as any man, he had
** sometimes been forced to grope for his meaning."
It is no wonder then that his translation was often
mistaken in the true sense of the author, any more
than that the style of it should, after more than
seventy years, appear in many places uncouth and
obsolete. Indeed the latter was polished or rather
modernised in some pages of our last edition ; but in
the present one, it is corrected and improved
throughout, besides the rectifying of many mistakes,
which Mr. Cotton probably would not have been
guilty of,had hebeen assisted by thosedictionariespub-
lishedsince his time, that are the best explainersof the
PREFACE.
Gascoh language, which was Montaigne's mother-
tongue.
Tins new edition will, it is presumed, be received
by the public, with the more favour, not only be-
cause the editor had those helps so necessary for
explaining the author's true meaning, but because it
is; translated from that accurate French edition of
these Essays in 17S4, by Peter Coste, who formerly
trimslated many of Mr. Locke's excellent tracts
with applause, into the French language, and was
therefore encouraged in executing the said edition
of Montaigne's Essays, by the subscription of
many of our chief nobility and gentry.
After submitting our best efforts for doing it jus-
tice, to the candour of the public, we refer them to
what Mr. Coste himself has said, of the preference
of his to all the other Fiench editipns.
PREFACE
OF
PETER COSTE,
TO HIS
FRENCH EDITION
OF
MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS.
xxLL men of good sense have long been agreed as to the me-
rit of Montaigne's Essays. For my own port, I do not pre-
tend to make a formal harangue m their praise, nor to enter into a
discussion of the criticisms that have been passed upon them :
for as to thjrir merit, I can add nothing to what has been already
said of it by others ; and am persuaded, that such as shall read
the woric, with any application, will be easily convinced of thc^
weakness of most of those criticisms.
But there is one thing upon which I cannot help making some
reflections, before I show the advantages of this edition above
those which have been published hitherto ; and that is the noble
candour- Montaigne has demonstrated throughout the whole
book, and finom which he has not once departed.
Montaigne has been very much censured for , having made
himself so much the subject of his book : but this objection has
been refuted a thousand times, and I have heard it very often
repeated in company, where I could easily perceive, that they
who made it were not very well acquainted with Montaigne's
manner of painting himself in this book. He has done it with
so much sincerity, that there is all the reason in the world ^o
believf that he engaged in so difficult an undertaking, not so
PREFACE OF
much out of vanity, as to commuhicate iustruction. It is, how-
ever, certain, that the picture he lias here drawn of himself, is
in the nature of a feithfUl mirroi^ nfl^^r^m all men may discover
some of their own features, if they will but take the trouble to
view themselves in it attentively, and with an honest design to
see what they are i|i reajii^ And to ^9^ purpose will it be ;
for, in this world, a man must be very careful to inspect himself,
or, by living at random, be incessantly exposed to the derision of
other men, and be a p^ey tg bjs owp foiUes,^ always in uneasiness
and confusion, and always repining at evils, of which he will
neither know the cause, nor (he proper remedy. '^ If," as
Montaigq^snys^^veiyviiellupoBthi^QCCi^iQP, ^ tk^w^W com-
<^ plains, that I speak too much of myself, I complain that they
^^ do not so much as thiak et iheflMelves." Would men but
try to imitate Montaigne's freedom^ and paint themselves in th^iir
genj^io^ cqIomts^ X\^y wiU aosHk perceive tlia undertaking not tq
h0 SQ W^p^V^s 4# it W dif^k to ex«€Ut^.
Th# ge^fr^lity of iift«9kM ^re 90 blMed by a filial compkuh
s^q^e tp tj^^^m^elvesj ^ by am mtjustiiabk kftvd of $b«nr> that^
C^ kon^ bttpg aUo to u^wnask tbeQwdvea to the public^ wHh 4mt
a^i^le un^eTby w<bt€h api^ean loi MiNifta|gii«> Aeji have Ml
e^4n the cQM««ec tQ pi^ into the seeret i€oe8se»<rftbw' owa
hearts, in order to make a private dvicovefy to tbemsehBetof thair
ci9m foJK^K l^viti^ and Ae tnie vocivta of thmr actioos.
That u«d(»abu:4ly h the leaaQii whf, of ao many wrkert vkct
bAv« app^ar^ in print m€» M0Mugae, and of whom mMs
^v< be<o,b}itftkti imitators (a tribe whick has. ever bemdii»
most numerous ii) tke rapublic of feUors),. tJkie haa not appf«BO|l
<MM wh^ aj^eitipMd tQ walk ia liis steps^
TW ifl ma roaiarkaUe^ ^mH the duke of Buckingham^ mar^wirf
^ Nomsmdy, &fi; fiwnoua for a nice discenMucnt^ and a jud^*
i^ont wUch waft 9Qvep su^pjBctod of bcuog cbuded hy aa k}|tt
Qfm^^^mWifij 09 ill growd^^ pxejudice^ took OGeaafaii foon
tmcQ to. piiss: a. poUe cQOipUiQ€ttt upon Montage. For, aftet
having mcv^ttoiMd Ck«Q»anc|lp{d ChancoUnr JBaeoo^ as two e»^
• VoL tii. chap. i.
FBTBR COtn*
<!ellmt geniitfes^ vrhcxe ccmJhetiiMiftianmMifttgntwMithe wise^
maxims whkh adoaed ^wir writbgB^ be myiliM Oose two ce-
lebmted M^han woidd have done miidi mofe service to. the pub«
He, if Aey bad given it a candid and particalar account of the
true Moses of that eontndietion. * ^ But/' he add^« ^ we must
^ XMfver expect so much sincerity in any writer^ except the in*
*^ comparable Montsigney who m Vke to stand alone to all pos*
<* terity. Iknow very welV' oootmues the duke of BnfkJBg-
ham, '< that Montaigne is chaiged frith vanity, but b osy opi-
'* nion without reasm— And supposing it true that he has not
^ been altogether exempt from i^ never did any person take so
^ right a method to di^guke It;'' for as all hb vanity was to pub-
llsb his foibles and imperfections as freely as his good qualities, It
was a vanity of a very partieular spades, and peibaps would de-
serve another name.
Montaigne ^eaks of hb bodt, with the same frankness as be
does of himself. ^ •
Besides tlie quotaticms with which he has enriched it, he con-
fesses ingenuously that he has concealed the names of many ee-
lebrated^audiors, whose reasons and comparisons he hm tnuis-
planted into hb work, purposely to awe those rash censuieis, who
jao sooner see a new book come out, but they set about critids-
Ing it ; moreover, so lar was he from a thought of appiopriatmg
the sentiments of another writer to himself, that he says,t <^ He
^ should love any one that could by a clear judgment strip him
^ of hb borro\^ ftathers." For my own part, I have not ta-
ken a great deal of pains to tmee those foreign thoughts, yet I
have discovered a gqod number of them in each volume,
though more by chance, or by meaMMfy, than fay that sort of dis-
cernment, which Montingae requircB in those who should ujor
d^ake txy divest hn of hb phtnuq^.
' HetelbuswithtliesnnefraahBess,^ <^ That he a^ires every
^ where to rise to an equriity witti hb thefts^ and to go the
^ same pace with them :** butheadMs^ ^ft b as mncKowtngto
• Vol. ii. p. S66, of the Workf of John Sheffield doke of Bdckioshan.
t rot. Ii. of MoMaigiie*iEaayi« dap. i. OfAoka.
t Vol. i. chap. zxr. Oi tl» B^icafion of Cbilifreii.
10
VRBFAOB or
^^ his application, as his iavention/' Indeed his book aliounds
with {wssages taken from the best authorSi which he has mafle
fab own, by clothing tliem in a dress quite n^w^ und oft^n
more delicate and splendid than what they wear ip the original.
Was I to particularise ^U these ingenknis applications of his^ I
should write a volume instead of a Preface. One single instance,
taken from tlie 21st cliapter of the first volume, will be sufficient
to excite the curiosity of such readers, as have a taste for inqui-
ries of this nature. Ahnost all the sentiments of that chapter,
are inserted verbatim from Seneca; and, by the application
which Montaigne makes of them, they appear to be pbun obser-
vations of tlie common customs of life, which in short take in all
human nature.
But from the very quotations with which Mpntpigne 1^ en-
riched his book, some have taken occasion to impeach his sincer
rity, which to dispossess him of, would be entirely tp defiice his
character. ^^ How comes it," say they, ^^ that Montaigne, whp
« lias filled hi^ book with such a number of quotations, com-
^^ phins so often and so bitterly of the weakness of his me-
^^ mory 7 From what a source has he drawn so many scraps of
'^ liistory, and all those beautiful passages of which he has
'^ made such singular applications ? Was it not his memory that
'^ furnished him with the names of so many philosophers, their
^^ instrucdve maxims which he quotes at every turn, those long
'^ details which he gives of their sentiments, on the nic^t
^^ questions of natural and moral philosophy, on the pature of
^^ the Divine Being, and of the essence and immortality of the
" soul ?"
In answer to this objection, without entering into particulars,
which would carry us too £ur, it may be observed in the first
place, that for want of memory, Montaigne has spmetunes fellen
into very gross errors, as where he mistook Crates,* for So-
crates ;t one Dionysius, for Diogenes the Cynic; Heraclides
Ponticus,^ for Pythagoras; and where he makes Thales§ say the
very contrary to what he said, as he sometimes did Plutarch ||
• Vol. iii. chap. 12. + Vol. I. chmp. 24. J Vol. i. chap. 25.
i Vol. in. chap. 2. B Vol. li. chap. S, aod 26.
PIETKR COSTJS.
his most iBtimate friend, whose works he always had ia his
handsy and from whom he was insepamble, even at the time he
was inclined <^ to be without the oompany* and th^ remembrance
*' of every other book."
In the second place^ it is not owing to memory, nor was it in
the heat of composition, that Montague embellished lib book
with All the quotations that now appear in it : he inserted them
for the most part at his leisure, and as he met widi them in the
books that came in his way. To be ocmYinced of this one need
only ran over the first editions of the Essays, wherein there ase
but few (flotations in chapters wbidb were afterwards fiiU charged
with them. For instance, in )^ 8d ehapter of the 2d Vo-:
lume, for three pages together there is a great display of the
sentiments of all the most celebrated philosophers of antiquity^
concerning the nature of God ; but there is not a single word
of it in the first editk>n of the Essays printed at Bourdeaux in
1580, nor in that at Paris in 1588. And in the editkni which I
have now put out, it will appear to every reader, that Montaigne
met with all those sentiments very esacdy exphiined in Cicero^
from whence it was very easy for him, without any efiorl of the
memory, to transplant them into liis book.
liere I cannot avoid taking notice of a censure which Mon-
tdgne has veiy frankly passed upon himself, and as to which no-
body has ever once thought fit to contradict him : and that is
what he says in his third volume, of hb loose and incoherent
li:ay of wx^ing, or as he .calls it himself, by leaps and skips.t
Tliis defect is not absolutely owing, as has been always believ-
ed, to the particular genius of Mcmuiigne, which unaccountably
drew hi|n frtyp one su1]gect to another, so that he was not capa-
paUie of givioig more order and connection to his own thoughts ;
but to the many additions wfajeh he made here and there to his
book, as often as it came to be reprinted. If we only compare
the first editions of the Essays ^h those that followed, it is ob-
vious that those frequent additions have very much perplexed
and confounded such arguments as were originally very clear, and
« Vol. iil. cbap. 4. f Yol. iii. chap. 8.
tfeiy Well coiinetfted. Monttigne'ft style, ^ch ai h a^petb In
the first edttiOii% add such « it etiind^ in tbe latter edition!, rf>
ter having been oomipted bjr those additions, mi^lif be eoit)|[taired[
to a pearl neclclace ; with those pearls, though at Cbrst all per-
fcctty founds and of «n equal siise, others should be tnixed af-
terwards altt^thet as fOtoad, but much hunger, whieh at Ae
same time that they etthioced the price of the necklace, wDuM
deprive itof great part of its bessu^. The case is the same with
ilioiC of the thoughts wMch Mdtitaigde has inserted, troth time
10 licne, in his book* Oise would be soriy to lose them, thotM^h,
by the maauer of engMftlag them in it, they disfigure it in ttMHf
plaees, Beeaose MotitaigM himself eduld, without any dtffieul-
ty» perosive the chain «f his irst thoughts^ notwithstaddiog dl
hi$ iflseftions that htoke thecwmieetion, he imagined that a'reader
of any attefitiod wotdd diseevo them as well as he did. But in
some parte of bis wortc, the traces of that Connection ^xe so iaint
and obscure, that It catmot be perceived without cbusulting the
most ancient efitioAs. Of this Aere is a very remarkable in^
stftuce in the notes of Vol. IIL Book B^ and many others, tf
which a mote particolar discussion would be very dissgreeable its
this place, nnd carry me to an esoessive lengths
Whatrem^iM for ine^ Is briefly to demonstrate tiie advan-
tages of this edition> above all those that have been publiihed
hitherto.
Of all the old edhions of the Essays^ the only fiutbemic otd
is that published by Angelier at Paris* m 1596^ from a copy th«t
was found after tlie Author's, decease^ as we a/e posithrdy assured
hi the thie-page, and '< that had been revised md augmented;
« one third more than Ae former editions/' Thas is the very
edition from which I have caused mine io be printed^ without
making any other use of those that have appeared stnCe, than
merely to correct the fdolts of the putts. The httter editbns, hr-
deed, have had greater alterations of die style; but as I have
made it a rule to myself, to publish Montaigne's book just as he
left it to us Inmsetfi I have admitted of none of thoae pretended
« With the exirnctir of the king*! licence at Paris, Oct. 15» 1594.
ptnui contfi
txmactitaB of langlia^^ ^i<^h Often tend only to enervate Moll»
taigw's sentlimnty and sometimea make him 9ay A thing the yrety
oonftmry to what he said before.*
In AeedltioD of 1595^ whidi I have exaictly foUowed» at to
dir toKt, there is neither a translation of the Greek, Latin, and
ftaliaD passages quoted by Montaigne, nor any diacorery of the
aotkoiitieafiroai whenoe those passages were taken ; two very ne»
bcBsafy articles, ho^trevdr, with ¥^hieh Mademotselle de GouTnay
ohoae to embellish the edition of the Essays that she published in
16S5, and which appearing in the subsequent editions, with
M the miftakes of the fint, rendered this work o^ very little
vahie.
1. To hefpn with the article of quqtatioQs» MadeaioiseUe do
Chmrifeay assiues us very expressly in the Pieiiic^ to her edition e£
the Essays in 1635, that a person unknown having thought fit
as seaich for and name some of the authors whose very worda
had beeniepeated by Montaigne, she eoffeeted all the errors hr
had committed, and augmented the list of those authois with
at least hall tfie number; so that there remained hut about fifty
j^Bssi^es, of wfakh she coidd not ^scovot the source. These
aie her very words which I cannot he^ rcfMti^g. ^ As to the
** mues Of the authon qOoted," says she, <' Which vppmr hero
^' (viz. in the edition of 1635), or which may appear also ill
^ some otWer ianptcsssons, I have revised and eoHspared with
^ their teat, all those whkh hid been applied to it by the un-
^ known pefson, retained the ttue, rejected the fidae, and aug-
^ mented the former by one hslf ; so that as to this, there re^
<* main only fifty void blanks to he filled up with the names in so
« great a number, as near twelve hundred passages. It was^
^ however, a very knotty diifiettky to find the source of so many
^ of the authorities of thb hook, the author having sometimel
^ jumbled two or three together, and at other timca with iua
** usual artifice trumped up some other which rendered the
^ search the more perplexing. Be thia aa it will, I should still
^' have been entangled in it, if some persons of honour and
« For iwtaace^ Vol u cUp. IIO» In Che Notenpon tlie Use of Wioc^
PBKPACB 09
<' learning had nbt lent me a hand/' Who would not think^
after what has been said^ that the source of most of Montaigne's
quotations^ is faithftilly pointed out by Mademoiselle Goumay }
Yet true it is, that her unknown friend, and those persons cf
honour and learning, who assisted her in the discovery of the au-
thors quoted by Montaigne, furnished her with a very imperfect
list, abounding throughout with quotations tiiat are false, or no-
thing to the puqxise ; for very often there appear the names of
authors, without specifying their works; asLivy, Petrarch, &c.
sometimes Cicero or Seneca, TibuUus or Propertius, are quoted
all at once for one and the same passage ; sometimes two pas-
sages, one of which belongs to Cicero, the other to Seneca, are
ascribed to both^ one while to Seneca, and another while to Ci-
cero; a passage of Lucfetius is charged to Plautus ; verses out
of Viigil to Lucan, and verses out of Lucan to Virgil ; and some-
times the verses of some modern poet are placed to the account
of Ennius, Virgil, and Ovid. Being obliged by all these mis-
takei to give no credit to this list, I have not pointed out the
source of atiy passage, till after I had seen it with my own eyes
in the original author; and by my own searches, and those of
ttome learned men, whom I always ibutid my account in consult*
ingj I at length discovered them all, save only about ten or
twelve passages of very lillle importance.
How trifling soever this labour might seem, I took a pleasure
in it, because I judged it very necessary: for as Montaigne's book
is crowded with passages out of the best authors, which he often
diverted ftom their original sense, that he might thereby be en-
abled to express his own thoughts with more beauty and spirit>
the artfulness and agreeableness of those applications could only
be discovered by examining those very passages at tlie fountain-
head. But who would trouble himself to go in search idter two
or three verses of a hemestic of Lucretius or Catullus, a few pe-
riods of Seneca or of Cicero, a passage of Sallust, or of Titus
Livy, unless it waa plainly pointed out to him where he might be
sure to find them*
2. A ftiitliful translation of the Greek, Latin, and Italian pas-
sages quoted by Montaigne, was altogether as necessary. Made-
PBTBE C06TB»
iilobeUe de Gtnirnay also undertook tfab task ; but On a close ex-
amination of her perfixrmance, I soon perceived that it would be
easier for me to make an entire new translationy than to amend
that of Mademoiselle Goumay^ besides that the confounding df
my French with that lady's, would form a very ridiculous medley.
Here I must entreat our book-critics to remember, that Mon-
taigne having put a sense quite new upon several passages, which
I have rendered into French, I was therefim obliged to transplant
Montaigne's ideas into my translation^ without consideritag whe-
ther it agreed or not with the sentiments of the authors whose
expressions Montaigne borrowed.
^ A very particular advantage which this editiob vriU have
beyond all the former editions, is the verifieation of a great num**
ber of sentiments, turns of wit, and historical fects with which
Montaigne has adorned his book, without naming the authors
from whence he had them. In the first place, I took notice of
some that presented themselves as it were of their own accord,
and afterwards I made it my business to note down as many as I
could possibly discover. By degrees this examen produced a very
ample kind of criticism upon Montaigne ; for by searching into
the authorities which he had recourse to, I discovered many errors
that he committed, either because he did not rightly understand
the authors he copied, or for want of due retention of their opi-
nions. And to the end that his exactness oaight be the more vi-
sible, as well as hb mistakes (which in the main are not so nu«-
merous nor so gross, but there are quite as many, and almost of
the same kind too, in the most celebrated writers, the Stlma-
siuses, Grotiuses,* &c.), I have at the bottom of the pages^
quoted the very words of the authors in passages of any impcMrt-
atice, without translating them, when they only say what Mon-
taigpe has since said in French ; but wherever they are contra^
^ctory to what Montaigne has said, I give an exact translation^
on purpose to make such contradiction apparent.
4. This editk>n is also augmented with a little commentary,
• See Mr. Barbeyrac*! Preface of his excellent translation of *' De Jura
** BelU e( Pacif/' p. 29» 83 ; aad I know not how many moreof bii comai^a*
tarie» on that work.
PRBFACB OV 1>W£ft COST£.
which consists in a ^hm pantphrase on those piassages of Iktoir*
taigne whose sense does not oecur easily to the mind^ and in an
explanation of all antiquated word^^ which are now grown ohso^
Jete. Bat our Tirtnosos will say, was it worth while to spend
time cm a thing of so little importance? I know that all this
must be reckoned a trifle, by men who have snch a clear and welt
grounded knowledge of books as they have. But these gentlemen
ought to consider, that as they are the more respected in the
worid, because they are few in number, a book only calctilated
tor them, would be of no great use to the rest of mankind.
I have left out of this edition what appears in many others,
mth the title of ^^ The Life of Montaigne;'' an insipid and in*
cmnplets abstract of what Montaigne has said of himself in hb
Essays, and couched in hb very words, but by their being de-
tached iiom the occasion which produced them, they lose nil
their spirit and beauty.
To supply this oaoission I have added, at the end of the third
volume, some letters hem Montaigne, of which the last is pre*
fixed to the Natural Theology of Raymond Setaonde, translated
into French by Mcmta^e : and the others are taken from a little
book wfaidi is very scarce, consisting of soyn« posthumous pieces
of Stephen de la Boetia, which Montaigne put to the press; in
1571, about nme years before the first edition of his Essays. Thb
book WIS fint showed to me by the honourable Mr. Stanley, who
vott 80 very obliging as to put it into my hand^, with leave to
make any extract of it that miglit answer my puijioae. Hie lettef
wlieiein BloDtaigne ttht€9 the most retnarfcaUe particulars of the
aidmess and death of his intittiate iiiend Stephen de h Boetia, i$
sufficient to demonstiate, that, when he bad a mi Ad to take patos^
he could write in a style v^ colierent and regolar: hot iti t}i0
•dier letters tbeie appears that free natural air whi^h is suitabt^
10 Monta^'s common way of writing, and to his genkis«
To conclude, it wiH tiot he improper, in njy opinion, to lake
notice that Montaigne was bom in 1533, that he fived in the
reigns of Francb I. Henry U. Fiancb II. Charles IX. Henry III.
and Henry IV. and thM he died in 1692, on the 13th of Sept
tembcr, aged 59 years, 6 months, and 11 days.
VINDICATION
OF
MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS-
X HESE Essays, or rather Miscellanies, because
they are on various subjects, though they have not
so much order and connection as others, yet people
of all ranks extol them above all others whatsoever.
In many other Miscellanies, both ancient and mo-
dem, they complain of an unnecessary heap of quo-
tations, whereas in this they are delighted to find
authorities quite pertinent to the purpose, intermixed
with the author's own thoughts ; which being bold
and extraordinary, are very effectual to cure men of
their weakness and vanity, and induce them to a
lawful pursuit of virtue and felicity. But because
every body is not of this opinion, we will take notice
here of what is said for and against these Essays ; and
this is the moi'e necessary, because one has frequent
occasions to talk of this authbr, his book being un^
versally read, and having been often quoted, and
referred to by the writers of the Spectator, and
others of the first class.
The enemies of Montaigne tell us, that his book
is so &r from inspiring his readers with the love of
virtue, that, on the contrary, the free and licentious
VOL. u b
A VINDICATION OP
words in some of his discourses teach them some
vices of which thej were ignorant, or else are the
occasion that they take a pleasure in speaking of
them, if not in committing them : that his discourses
upon several effects of nature are rather fit to divert
men's thoughts from the true religion, than to con-
vince them of it, and are altogether unbecoming a
christian philosopher : that his propositions and as-
sertions are, for the most part, very dangerous for
several persons, who either, want learning, or have
too great a bias for libertinism : that, besides an in-
different knowledge of practical morals, and of his-
tory, which Montaigne had acquired in reading
Seneca and Plutarch, having conversed with few
other books, as he owns himself, he had hardly a
tincture of other sciences and arts, even not of the
theory of moral philosophy : that he was as ignorant
in other parts of philosophy, as physics, metaphysics,
aCnd logic : that he understood very little of what we
call humanity, or the Belles Lettres : that he was a
very ill grammarian, and a bad rhetorician : and that,
as he talks positively, and boldly, Scaliger used to
style him ^^ a bold ignorant" These angry gentle-
men likewise pretend, that if his quotations from
ancient authors, and the little stories he tells us
about his own temper and inclinations were taken
out of his book, the rest would amount to little or
notliing.
Having thus impartially related the most material
ol]9ections urged against Montaigne, we proceed now
to mention what is said in his vindication. And we
might here, in the first place, make use of the long
JKOMTAIOMeSi BSSAn.
preftce Mademoiselle de Goumay has prefixed to the
French folio edition of his Essays, 1635, wherein
the does not only give a full answer to all objections
against Montaigne, but also talks of him as of a man
whose works have revived truth in his age, and which,
therefore she calls ^^ the quintessence of philosophy,
'* the hellebore of man's folly, the setter at liberty
^^ of the understanding, and the judicial throne of
«< reason.'' But we do not think fit to insist upon
her evidence ; for, notwithstanding the solid argu-
ments her opinion is grounded upon, she may be
suspected to be blindfolded with the passionate love
she had for her adopted father: and besides, we
Jbave so many great men to produce in favour of
Montaigne^ that we may, without any prejudice to
his cause, wave the evidence of that lady. Tliese
will tell you, that if he has handled any matters with
an uncommon freedom, it is owing to his generous
temper, which abhorred any base compliance ; and,
as to his love for virtue, and his religion, they appeal
to his book itself, wherein this will appear evident,
if the passages, alleged to prove the contrary, are
examined without partialit)r, and not separately by
themselves ; but according to the connection they
have with what precedes or follows*
Stephen Pasquier, that sincere writer, who deals
more fairly with Montaigne than any of his op-
posers, for he does not conceal his fiiults, nor pass
by what may be said to extenuate or excuse them.
** Montaigne," says he, ^^ in one of his letters, has
** several chapters, whereof the body is no ways
^^ answerable to the head; witness the following;
b2
A rvmitATlOV OF
«< The History of Spurina} Of the Resemblance of
" Children to their Parents; Of the Verses of
« VirgU; Of Coaches ; Of Lame People; Of Va-
*^ nity, and Physiognomy. In these the author in-
^< coherently rambles from one subject to another,
^^ i;?ithout any order or connection. But after all,
^< we must take of Montaigne what is good, and not
^^ stick to the titles of his chapters, but look into
** his discourses ; for possibly he designed to laugh at
^^ himself, at others, and at human capacity, by thus
** slighting the rules and servile laws of authors,'^
I shall add on this point, that though several of
his discourses do contain quite different things from
what is promised in the titles, as Pasquier has ob*
served, yet it does not always happen so ; and when
he has done it, methinks, it is rather through af-
fectation than inadvertency, to show that he did not
intend to make a regular work. This likewise ap-
pears by the odd, or rather fantastical medley of his
discourses, wherein ijfirom one subject he makes long
digressions upon several others. No doubt, but he
thought that he might take the same liberty in his
meditations, as is assumed in common conversations,
in which, though there be but two or three inter-
locutors, it is observed that there is such a variety .
in their discourses, that if they were set down in
writing, it would appear that by digressions they are
run away from their first subject, and that the last •
part of their conversation is very little consistent
with the first. This I verily believe was his true in-
tention, that he might present the world with a free
and original work ; for none of his adversaries will h%
9
MON^TAIGKE's E88ATS.
able to convince the world, that this proceeded £rom
want of judgment in a man of such parts as they
are obliged to own in Montaigne.
He aimed also, sometimes, to conceal his design
hj his titles ; as for instance, in his third book, when
having spent ahnost a whole chapter against phy^
sicians, it is most likely that his view was to conceal
his real intentions by entitling the same, *^ Of the
*« Resemblance of Children to their Parents." For
this gave him an opportunity to tell us, that he was
afflicted with the gravel as his father was, and to dis-
course of the cure of several distempers, and at the
same time of the uncertainty of physic, or rather of
the ignorance of physicians; from whence I con-
clude that, in this whole chapter, and several others,
there is rather a refined art, than ignorance.
It is somewhat surprising that Montaigne should
be blamed for quoting ancient writers, when his
quotations are made purely to confirm or illustrate
what he says, seeing Plutarch and several other ex-
cellent authors have taken the same liberty ; and if
it be objected, that the quotations in Plutarch are
taken from Greek authors, and consequently are in
the same language as his, whereas Montaigne has
stufied his French book with Greek, Latin, and
Italian verses ; I answer, that this is trifling ; for if
Montaigne found liothing in his own language
worthy of being cited, or dse if he thought that
ancient or foreign writers had better treated the
matter he speaks of, pray by what law is he forbidden
to make use of their authority ? I own that, in some
places, he has translated passages of ancient authors
A VINDICATION OP
into French, and so dexterously incorporated .them
into his work, that he has in a manner made them his
own ; but where is the great crime in this, especially
seeing he has a world of thoughts of his own, which
are more sublime and excellent than what he has
alleged from others ?
Balzac, in his XIX. Entretien, reflects upon his dic-
tion, though at the same time he excuses it. ^^ He
** lived,'* says he, " in the reign of the family a£
*^ Valois, and was a Gascon by birth, and therefore
^ it is impossible but his language must have some-
^' thing of the vice common to his age and country.
^^ However, we must own that his was an eloqu^it
^^ soul, that he expressed his thoughts in nervous^
^^ masculine expressions, and that .his style had
" some beauties above, what we could have ex-
** pected from the age he lived in. I will say no
^^ more on this head i and I know that it would be
** a sort of a miracle, that a person could write or
•* speak French politely, in the barbarism of Quercy
** and Perigord, where his wife, relations, and
^^ friends, are so many enemies to the purity of the
" French tongue. The court style then was like-
^ wise as corrupt as that of the country, there be-
*^ ing, at that time, no settled rules for our Ian-
" guage : and those fitults, which are more ancient
^* than the laws themselves, must be deetdte^ innocent
** I conclude,'* says he in another place, " that I
" have a great veneration for him, and that, in my
*^ opinion, he is comparable to those ancients whom
** we call Maximos ingenioj arte rudcs, ^c.*' And,
in another, he compares him tp a w^andering guide
MONtAIGITB's ESSATS.
who brings his travellers to more agreeable tracks
than he promised.
What Balzac says, in relation to the court of
France in the days of Montaigne, is true . enough^
and very much to the purpose } but observe here the
vanity and malice of that hypercritic in reflecting
upon Montaigne^s country ; as if it were impossibly
that any body bom in Perigord or Quercy should
write French politely. I own Balzac has written
more elegantly than Montaigne, and that the French
tongue is much indebted to him ; but he whose ex-
cellency consisted chiefly in the connection or dis*
position of words, must not, for all that, pretend to
set up for a judge of the thoughts of MontaigQe, as
he rashly ventured upon in his XVIII, and XIX«
Entretiens.
It is true, Montaigne has some provincial expres*
ttons, but they are few ; and it is to be observed,
that several words of his, which were at first ex-
cepted against, have been since adopted by the best
writers, it being the privilege of great authors, to
introduce new words. The French word er^mi
(merry) has not been always in use, though it is now
in the mouths of all the learned and polite people,
and Montaigne was the first author that I know o^
who made use of it ; and so they are obliged to him
for this word, which does not only signify a merry
man, but one who carries the very ^ects of mirth
in his fiice, and chiefly upon his cheek (jaue).
They who tell us that Scaliger used to call him a
bold ignorant, do certainly a greater injury to Scali#
ger than to Montaigne } for the reputation of the
A VmDICATIOK OF
former, great as it is, will never so fkr bias mankind,
as to make them believe, that the author of a bqok,
iidierein there is so much learning, should be an
ignorant. Scallger was a better judge both of men
and books, and as this is not to be found in anj one
of his works, I think one may venture to say, that
this calumny was contrived by some of Montaigne's
envious enemies, who, not having capacity enough to
encounter him, made use of this artifice to run down
his merit with that great name.
Monsieur de Plassac, a great admirer of Mon*
taigne, converted his, chapter of the Vanity ef
Words into modem French ; but, as he owns it him-
self, it was no more Montaigne's whose similies and
proverbial expressions have greater energy, than the
nice politeness of the modern French language;
and, besides, Montaigne^s discourse is every where
iiill of sentences and solid reason, which do not
always admit that smooth but empty way of writing,
soi much in vogue in France.
As for the rest, there is hardly any human book
extant, so fit as this to teach men what they are, and
lead them insensibly to a reasonable observation of the
most secret springs of their actions ; and, as cardi*
nal Perron said, it ought to be the manual of all
gentlemen, especially as his uncommon way of teach-
ing, wins people to the practice of virtue, as much
as other books fright them from it, by being dogma-
tical and imperious.
Thus we have answered all the. material objections
made against Montaigne ; for I think the other trifles
which are objected against him, do not deserve to be
M0NTAI6N£'S ES8ATS.
taken notice of; and I wcmder that the author of the
Search after Truth, should spend his time upon them,
in a manner so unbecoming his character. He tells
us^ after Balzac and some others, that Montaigne's
vanity and pride were not suitable to an author and
philosopher ; that it was ridiculous and needless for
him to keep a pag6, who had hardly 6000 livres a
year, and more ridiculous still to have so often men-
tioned it in his writings : but I may answer, that it
was very common in his time for gentlemen of ho*
nourable extraction to keep a page^ in order to de-
note their quality, though their estate could hardly^
afford them to keep a fdotman ; and that the
6000 livres a year were mOre then, than 20000 now*
a-days. It was likewise very much unbecoming the
gravity of our fitmous Searcher after Truth, to rail at
Montaigne because he kept a clerk when he was
counsellor in the parliament of Bourdeaux : for
Montaigne having exercised that noble employment
but for a short time, in his youth, he had no occa*
sion to mention it ; and who will beUeve that he
concealed it out of vanity : he who, in the opinion
of Malebranche himself, talks^ of his own imperfec-
tions and vices with too great a freedom ? It is like-
wise very ungenerous and ungentleman-like to take
notice, that he did not very well succeed in his may-
oralty of Bourdeaux ; for the times he lived in were
very troublesome, and supposing he committed some
error, which they say without any proof, what is
that to the merit of his book ? Balzac introduces a
gentleman speaking thus to an admirer of Mon-
taigne. ** You may prize your author,, if you will.
A VIKDICATION OF
^^ more than our Cicero, but I cannot fancy that a
^^ man, who governed all the worldi, was not at least
<c equal to a person who did not know how to govern
^^ Bourdeaux*'* This may very well pass for a jest $
but is it a rational way of confuting an audior, to
have recourse to personal reflectioiu, or to some in-
cidents relating to his private person or quality?
This is so mean, that I cannot fimcy Balzac could
be guilty of it } and I wholly impute it to those who
published, af);er his death, some loose discourses on
several subjects, which they have entitled his £n-
tretiens.
Notwithstanding these objections, Montaigne al-
ways had and is like to have admirers, as long as
sense and reason have any credit in the world. Jus-
tus Lipsius calls him the French Thales, and Me-
zeray the christian Seneca ; and the incomparable
Thuanus made an eulogy on him, which being veiy
short, I shall transcribe it here.
^^ Michael de Montaigne, chevalier, was bom at
^^ Perigord, a seat which had the name of his family.
^^ He was made counsellor in the parliament of
^^ Bourdeaux with Stephen de la Boetia, with whom
^^ he contracted so great a friendship, that that dear
<^ friend* of his was, even afler his death, the ob-
'^ ject of his respect and veneration. Montaigne
^^ was extraordinary free and sincere, as posterity
*^ will see by his Essays ; for so he has entitled that
^^ immortal monument of his genius«
* Montaigne therefore always called him his brother, as he called
Mademoiselle de Gournay, his daughter, upon the same principle*
Vide the note, p. 218, of this toI.
MONTAIONB's £S8ATS# .
^ While he was at Venice, he was elected mayor
** of Bourdeaux, which place was bestowed onty
*' upon persons of the first quality, and even the go*
^^ vemors of the province thought it was an honour
^^ for them. The jtnareschal de Matignon, who
*^ conunanded the king's forces in that province
^ during the troubles, of the state, had such an
^ esteem for him, that he communicated the most
^< important affiurs to him, and admitted him. into
^^ his council. As I had a correspondence with him
'^ while I was in his country, and sinde at court,
^^ the conformity of our studies and inclinations
^^ united us most intimately. He died at Montaigne
^^ in the 60th year of his age.'*
This testimony of Thuanus is sufficient to justify
the memory of our author, for nobody will believe-
that a man of that integrity, would have been so great
a fiiend with so vicious a man, as Montaigne has been
represented by some who envied him. I shall there-
fore conclude this discourse with a very remarkable
circumstance, mentioned by Thuanus in his own lifo;
lib. iii. which shows that Montaigne was beloved by
the greatest princes in his time, and honoured with
their confidence. ^^ While the states of .the king-
^ dom," says he, "were sitting at Blois, Mon-
" taigne and I were discoursing of the division be-
" tween the king of Navarre, and the duke of
*^ Guise ; whereupon he told me, that he knew the
^ most secret thoughts of both those princes, as
•* having been employed to compose their differ-
" ences ; and that he was persuaded, that neither
" of them was of the religion he professed. That
A VIKmCATIOM OF MONTAIOKB's ESSAYS.
^ the king of Navarre would have willingly em-
^^ braced the religion of his predecessors, if he had
^ not feared that his party . would abandon him ;
^ and that the duke of Guise would have declared
<^ himself for the confession of Augsburg, which the
^^ cardinal of Lorrain his uncle had * inspired him
^^ with, if he could have done it, without any pre-
•* judice to his interests/'
I thought this circumstance was not unworthy of
being placed here ; but i must beg the reader's par-
don for having detained him so long, and that he
would attribute it to the respect I have for the me-
mory of so excellent a man as Montaigne, who
meets with a much more &vourable entertainment
in Enjgland, than in his native country ; but it must
be observed, that an author who writes freely of ev^
thing, is not suitable to the temper of a servile na-
tion, that has lost all sense of liberty.
Monsieur La Bruyere, in his celebrated book of the
** .Characters and Manners of the Age,*' gives ano-
ther reason why some people condemn Montaignew
** Two writers,*' says he (meaning La Mothe le
Vayer, and Malebranche), " have condemned Mon
<^ taigne : I know that author may be justly blamed
** in some things, but neither of them will allow him
<' to have any thing valuable. One of them thinks
^^ too little to taste such an author who thinks a
^^ great deal ; and the other thinks too delicately
** to be pleased with what is natural. This, I be-
** lieve," says he, ^* is the general character of
** Montaigne's enemies."
MONTAIGNES PREFACE
TO
THE READER.
JL his. Reader, is a book altogether without guile.
It tells thee at the entrance of it, that I had no
view in publishing it, but what was domestic and
private. I have had no regard in it, either to thy
service, or my own glory: my abilities are not
equal to the execution of such a design. I have
devoted it to the particular benefit of my kindred and
friends, to the end, that when they have lost me,
which they will do very soon, they may there re-
trace some of my qualities and humours, and con-
sequently that their remembrance of me may be
preserved more lively and entire. Had I been to
court the favour of the public, I should have
adorned myself with borrowed beauties : but I am
desirous to appear in my plain, natural, ordinary
dress, without study and artifice ; for it is my own
dear self that I paint. My faults will appear here
to the life, together with my imperfections, and my
native form, as far as a respect to the public has
permitted me. And if I had dwelt in those nations
which are said to live still undec the sweet liberty
mom'taigke's preface.
of the primitive laws of nature, I assure thee, I
should gladly have drawn my own Portrait at fuQ
length, and quite naked. Thus, Reader, I am my-
self the subject of my own book ; a subject too vain
and frivolous to take up even thy spare time.
Adieu therefore.
MmrtaiffiMv
June 18, im.
CONTENTS.
Ck»p; Face
I. That Men arrive at the same End by different Means. 1
II. Of Sorrow <6
IIL That our Affections are extended beyond our Ex*
istence , U
IV. How the Soul discharges its Passions upon false Ob-
jects, when the true are wanting 21
V. Whether the Governor of a Place besieged ought
himself to go out to parley • 2i
VI. The Time of Parieys dangerous 28
VII. That our Actions are to be judged by the Intention. . SI
\VIII. Of Idleness S$
MIX. Of Liars... ,,., 34
' X. Of Readiness or Slowness in Speech 41
XI. Of Prognostications. 44
XII. Of Constancy. SO
XUh Of the Ceremony at the Interview of Princes 53
XIV. That the obstinate Defence of a Place, not in Reason
to be defended, deserves to be punished 55
\ XV. Of the Punishment of Cowardice.... 56
VXVI. A Passage of some Ambassadors. 58
XVII. Of Fear 68
XVIII. That we are not to judg^ of Man's Happiness before
his Death.. ^ 66
^ XIX. That he who studies Philosophy, learns to die 70 -
XX. Of the Power of Imagination 93
XXI. One Man*a Profit is another's Loss 106
XXII. Of Custom, and the Difficulty of changing a Law
once reaeived., 109
XXm. Difierent Events from the same Counsel 132
XXIV. Of Pedantry..... 144
\fXXV. Of the Education of Children 161
XXVL The Folly of making our Capacity a Standard for the
measure of Truth and Error ...1 209
XXVIL Of Friendship 215
V
CONTENTS.
Chap. BiS^
XXVIII. A Letter to Madam de Grammonf, Countess of
Guissen, with twenty-nine Sonnets 233
XXIX. Of Moderation 234*
y XXX. Of Cannibals 2*2
VXXXI. That a Man must not be too has^ in judging of
the Divine Ordinances 260
XXXII. To avoid Pleasures, even at the Expense of Life. . 263
XXXIIL Fortune often met with in the Train of Reason 265
XXXIV. Of one Defect in our Government 269
XXXV. Of the Custom of wearing Clothes.. 271
XXXVI. OrCato the Younger. 276
XXXVII. T^ we laugh mid cry for the same Thing 281 ,
XXXVHL Of Solitude 285 -7^^
XXXIX. An Observation concerning Cicero, &c 300
V XL. That the Relish of Good and Evil depends, in a
^ ') *'^ greatmeasure,upontheOpinion we have of either. SOB
XLL One Man's Honour not to be communicated to
another S35
XLII. Of the Inequality amongst us. SS9
XLIII. Of Sumptuary Laws. 853
XLIV. Of Sleep 356
XLV. Of the Battle of Dreux 359
XLVL Of Names* 361
XLVIL Of the Uncertainty of our Judgment 368
XLVIIL Of the War-horses called Destriers. 376
s XLIX. Of Ancient CiiStoms 388
^^ L. Of Democritus and Heraclitus 395
LL Of the Vanity of Words 399
LIL Of the Parsimony of the Ancients 403
LIU. Of the Saying of Caesar ! 4M
Nr fi^LIV. Of Vain Subtleties 406 ^
LV. Of Smells 4rlO
LVL Of Prayers 413
LVIL Of Age 42S
LVIII. Of the Inconstancy of our Actions 429
LIX. Of Drunkenness : 438
LX. Of the Custom of the Isle of Cea 452
LXI. To-morrow is a New Day 472
\LXn. Of Conscience 475 -
LXIIL Habit makes Things femiliar to us 481
LXIV. Of Honorary Rewards 495
LXV. Of the Affection of Parents to their Children 499
LXVL Of the Armour of the Parthians 526
ESSAYS
QF
MICHAEL SEIGNEUR DE MONTAIGNE.
CHAPTER I.
That Men arrive at the same End by different Means*,
When we find, that persons whom we have of- p**"©"* of-
fended have revenge in their own hands, and that ^MUficJr*
we absolutely lie at their mercy, the most usual way *>y s»*>mi«-
of appeasing their indignation, is to move them to"** '
pity by submission: yet bravery, constancy, and
resolution, which are qualities the very reverse, have
sometimes produced the same effect.
Edward the Black Prince of Wales,* (the same And some-
who so long governed our province of Guienne) ^^%^^tn^
personage remarkably great both by his rank and ▼««"»««.
fortune, having been highly incensed by the Limo-
sins, and taken their city by storm, was not to be
restrained firom prosecuting his revenge, by the cries
of the people, and of the women and children aban-
doned to slaughter, and calling for tnercy, till,
penetrating farther into the town, Ate took notice
of three Frepch gentlemen,t who, with incredible
* Son to Edward III. king of England, sftid father of the unfor-
tunate Richard II. •
f Froissart says, they were John de Villemur, Hugh de la
Roche, and Roger de Beaufort, son to the count de Beaufort, officers
of the city ; who, when they saw the trouble and plague that waa
VOL. I. B
2 THE SAME E^D GAiWSD
bravery, stood it out alone against his victoriotrs
army. His admiration of such transcendent valour
soon blunted the edge of liis fiiryj so that after
having given quarter to these three gentlemen, he
extended his clemency to all the surviving inhabi*
tants of the city. Scariderbeg, prince of Epirus^
Pursuing one of his soldiers, with a resolution to
in him; the soldier, after having in vain tried, by
all the humility and supplication possible, to appedse
him, resolved to face about, and expect him sword
in hand; which behaviour gave a sudden check to
his commander's fiiry, who, seeing him assume so
gallant a resolution, admitted him to favour. An
example, however, liable to another construction,
by such as never heard of the prodigious strength
and valour of that prince.
Eomiij The emperor Conrad III- having besieged Guelph *
inpprwed, cluke of Bavaria, would not be prevailed upon, what'
banished, ever mean and unmanly concessions were ofrered to
*y p»ty. him, to condescend to more favourable terms, than
that the women, who were besieged with the duke,
might go out, without violation of their honour, on
foot, and with so much only as they could carry.
True con. Such was the hcroism of the sex, that they carried
jiig^ lofe. ^^^ ^gjj. husbands and children, and even the duke
himself, upon their shoulders* At this sight the
emperor was so charmed with their ingenuity, as well
as courage, that he wept for joy, quite extinguished
the bitterness of the mortal hatred he had conceived
against the duke ; and from that time forward he
treated him and his with fiiendship.
Both these ways could easily bias me; for I am
wonderfiilly compassionate, and tender-hearted: yet,
Gome upon themselves and their people, said, ** We shall all die»
•* if we do not defend ourselves ; but we will sell our lives dear,
*< as all gentlemen ought to do." And these three Frendimen
gave several instances ef their valour. The princey comme that
way in his chariot,' looked upon them with admiration, and relented
Tery much at the sight of them. Ftoissart, vol. i. c. S939> p. S6&
* la 1140, in Winsberg, a town of Upper Bavaria.
fiY DIFFERENT MCAHS. 9
I fimcy, I should be sooner moved by pity^ than by
esteem. Nevertheless, compassion is reputed a vice Pity r». .
among the Stoics, who consent that we relieve the Jf^e^ytta
afflicted, but not that we should be so affected with^^'^c^
their sufferings, as to sympathize with them. I
thought these examples the more pertinent, because
therein we observe, those souls assaulted and tried
by these two different means, resist the one without
being shocked, and yet bend under the other. It
may be said, that to suffer the heart to be totally sub*
dued by compassion, is the effect of an easy, debon-
naire, effeminate disposition; whence it comes to
pass, that the weak reason of women, children, and
the vulgar, is the most subject to it : but for a man to
despise sighs and tears, and surrender his resentment
purely to a veneration for the sacred image of virtue,
this must be owing to a great and inflexible spirit,
which loves and honours courage, that is manly and
obstinate.
Yet astonishment and admiration may in less gene«
rous minds produce a like effect. Witness the people The Tb^
of Thebes, who having put two of their generals upon ^^^^
trial for their lives, because they had continued intherefo-^
arms beyond the prescribed terms of their commis- of*Vp'J|[If,
sion, very hardly acquitted Pelopidas, who sunknondM.
under the heavy charge, and produced no other ar*>
guments to save himself, than prayers and supplica-
tions; whereas, on the contrary, Epaminondas*
magm^ong the exploits he had performed, and re-
proaching the people in ahaught)r arrogant manner,
they had not tne courage so much as to proceed to a
ballot, but broke up the court, the whole assembly
highly commending the noble spirit of this great
man.
Dionysius the elder having, by a tedious.and very i*t«k«tfc.
difficult siege, taken the city of Reggio, and in it^f^of^id'
the governor Fhyton, that great'and good man, whii^»^<»y*^'i
* Plutardiy in his treatise, wherein he coosiderg bow &r a maa
may praise himself^ ch. 5.
b2
4 / THE SAltlE £:^rD GAINED
o'Ts*^™^ had so obstinately defended it, was resolved to make
cu«e!"*" him a tragical example 6f his revenge ; * in ordet"
whereunto, he first of all told him, that he had the
. ' day before caused his son, and all his kindred, to be
drowned: to which Phyton returned iio other answer,
but, " that they were then happier than himself by
*' one day.** After this, causing him to be stripped,
and delivered into the hands of the executioners, they
not only dragged him through the Streets of the city,
and most ignominiously and crtielly whipped him,
but also vilified him with most bitter and contunne-
lious language. Yet still his couldge did not once
fail him j but, on the contrary, with a strong voice,
and undaunted countenance, he put the people in
mind of the glorious cause of his death ; namely, that
he would not deliver up his coimtry into the hands of
a tyrant ; and at the same time he threatened him
with speedy chastisement from the . gods. Diony sius,
reading in the looks of his soldiers, that, instead of
being incensed at the bravadoes of this vanquished
enemy, in contempt of him their general, and of his
triumph, they not only seemed mollified with admira-
tion of such uncommon virtue, but ready as it were to
mutiny, and even to rescue Phyton out of his officers'
hands, he put an end to his torments, by sending hira
^afterwards privately to be thrown into the sea,
Man a va- / To Say the truth, Man is a subject wonderfully
nabieani- y^in, ficklc, and uustablc, of whom it is not easy to
Poiipcy'8 firame any certain and uniform judgment. /For in-
thfTnic^ stance, rompey pardoned the whole city of the Ma-
cesaioD ofa mertifaes, though he was very much enraged against
Sfci^rlir it, from pure regard to the virtue and magnanimity
lay dowo of one citizen, Zeno, t who took the fault of the pub-
L
* Diodorus of Sicily, lib. xiv. c. 29.
f Plutarch, in his " Instructions to those who manage state affiure,*^
ph. 17,; calls this citizen by the name of Sthenon. In the notable
sayings of the ancient kings, princes, and generals, where Plutarch
has relat;ed the same story unaer the article Pompey, this brave citi*
zen is called Stennius. But in the life of Pompey, ch. 3, the same
Plutarch tells us, that Pompey treated all the towns of Sicily witit
BY DIPFEKENr MEANS. S
Ik^uppn hiniselfalone, and desired no other favour Ms life for
than tx> suffer all the punishment due to it. YetJJJi^'^7
Alexander, the most courageous of mankind^ who Alexander
WBS so gracious to the vanquished, having, after ma- crueit^to*
ny great difficulties, taken the city of Gaza, and » ^*""*
finding Betis, who commanded there, and of whose *"^^"
valour, during the siqge, he had seen wonderful
proofs, quite alone, abandoned by all his soldiers,
his armour hacked and hewed to pieces, his body
covered all over with blood and wounds, still %hting
with a number of Macedonians, who attacked him 6n
all. sides,' he. said to him, being nettled at a victory
so dear bought, (for, besides other damage, he had '
received two fresh wounds)* *' Thou shalt not die, .
*' Beds, the death thou choosest, but shalt assuredly
** suffer all the kinds of torments that can be inflicted
** on a captive." Betis returning no answer to these
menaces, but only a.fiercc disdainful frown, *' What !
*' (said Alexander, observing his surly silence) is he
** too stiff to bend a knee ? Is he too proud to utter
** one supplication? I will most certainly conquer this
** silence ; and if I cannot force a word from his lips,
** I will at least extort a groan from his heart.** His
anger then swelling into rage, he commanded his
heels to be bored through, and Causisd him to be
dragged, mangled, and dismembered alive, at the
tail of a cart. Was the height of courage so natural
and familiar to this conqueror, that, rather than ad-
mire it, h6 the less esteemed it ? Or, did he conceive
it to be a virtue so peculiar to himself, that his pride
could not, without envy, endure to see it in another ?
Or, was the natural impetuosity of his wrath incapa-
ble of anv check? Certainly, had it been possible
for any thing to curb it, it is to be believed, it must And totbe
have been at the sacking and desolation of Thebes, r^^
humanity, except that of the Mamertines; and that, having like-
wise resolved to chastise that of the Himeriahs, ^s fuiy was dis-
armed by the generosity of Sthenis, one of the governors of the
lown, who took the whole blame of the public upon himself. «
* Q. Curtius, lib. iv. c 6.
OF 80BB0W.
to see so many valiant men niined^ and, totattjr de-
fenceless, cruelly butchered by the sword ; for there
were full 6000 lolled, of whom* not one turned his
back, or cried out for quarter; but, on the contrary,
every one ran about through the streets, striving to
provoke die victors to put them to an honourable
death. There was not one who did not, to his last
gasp, still endeavour to revenge himself, and, with
the wemons of despair, to sedc comfort in his own
death, by the death of some enemy. Yet did thehr
afflicted virtue create no pity, nor was one day long
enough to glut the conqueror's vengeance ; ror the
daughter continued till not a drop of blood remained
to be shed, except that of helpless persons, old men,
women, and children, of whom 30,000 were carried
into slavery.
CHAPTER IL
Of Sorrow.
A CM* i%0 man living is more free from this passion than
*^1on'* I am, who neither like it in myself, nor admire it in
^^ ^"' others J yet the world is pleased to honour it as it
were in the lump with a particular fitvour, and to
make it the ornament of wisdom, virtue, and con-
science. A silly mean dress ! The Italians have more
properly given me name to surliness which is meant
Id «ftc(i. oy their word tristezza ; it being a quality always
malignant, always foolish ; and, as it is always coward-
ly and mean, the Stoics would not allow their wise
men to be sensible of it. Nevertheless we read in
history ,t that Psammenitus, king of Egypt, being
defeated and taken prisoner by Cambyses, king of
* Diodorus of Sicily^ lib. xviL ch. 4.
t H^rodotus^ lib. iil p. 187| 18& EcL Steph. anno 159&
OP SORROW. 7
Persia, seeing his daughter pass by him in ihe habit
of a servant sent to draw water, though his friends
d^ut him burst into tears and lamentations, yet he
himself remained unmoved, without uttering a word,
and with his^ eyes fixed on the ground : and that
seeing, likewise, his son immediately afler led to ex-
ecution, he still maintained the same composure of
countenance, till spying one of his domestics dragged
away amongst the captives, he smote his forehead,
and mourned sadly. Similar to this, is the ^tory of a
late prince of our own nation, who being at Trent,
and naving news brought him of the death of his
elder brother, but a brother on whom depended the
whole support and honour of his house ; and hearing
soonafter of the death of a younger brother, the second
hope of his family, he withstood both these strokes
with an exemplary magnanimity; but one of hia
servants happening, a few days afler, to die, he suf*
fcred his constancy to be overcome by this last event,
and losing his courage, so abandoned himself to sor-
row and mourning, that some from thence concluded
he was only pierced to the quick by this last shock ;
but the truth is, that being before brimfid of grief,
the least addition overflowed the bounds of . his
patience. The same might also be judged of the
former example, did not history proceed to tell us,
that Cambyses asking Psammenitus,* " Why he was
'^ so unconcerned at the misfortune of his son and
^^ daughter, and so impatient at the death of his
** friend ? It is (answered he) because this last afflic-
** tion was only to be discovered by tears, the two first
•• exceeding ail manner of expression.'^
Something like this might, perhaps, be working in Extreme
the fancy of the painter of old, wno being, in the'^^j^j*
sacrifice of Iphigenia,t to represent the sorrow of the a«>ie.
by-standers proportionably to the degrees in wliich
they were variously affected by the death of this
* Herod, lib, iii. pi. 188.
t Val. Max. lib. viii. c. 11. in extemis, § 6,
OF SORROW.
innocent fair, and having in the other figures exerted
t^e utmost power of his art, he drew that of the
virgin's father with a veil over his face, meaning
thereby, that no kind of countenance was capable of
expressing such a degree of sorrow as his was. This
is the reason why Uie poets feign the unfortunate
mother, Niobe, after having first lost six sons, and
successively as many daughters, to be quite stupified
with grief, and at last petrified ;
Dirigiiisse malis;*
-whom grief alone,
Had power to stiffen into stone:
thereby to express that melancholic, dumb, and deaf
stupidity which benumbs all our faculties, when op-
pressed with accidents, which we are not able to sup-
port under ; and, indeed, the operation of grief, if it be
excessive, miist so overwhelm the soul, as to deprive
it of tlie liberty of its fiinctions ; as happens to every
one of us, who, upon the first alarm of every ill news,
find ourselves surprised, stupified, and in a manner
deprived of all power of motion ; so that the soul, by
^ving vent to sighs and tears, seems to disentangle
jtself, and obtain more room and freedom,
Ei via vix tandem tfoci laxata dohre est.f
And when, by struggling, grief is almost spent,
'Tis eas'd at length, by gi\ing words some vent.
Grief the In the war which king Ferdinand made upon the
Mddtn ^ dowager of king John of Hungary, a man iq armoiir
iiratii. was particularly taken notice of by every one for his
extraordinary gallantry in a certain encounter near
Buda, and, being unknown, was highly commended,
and as much lamented when left dead upon the spot,
but by none so much as by Raisciac, a German
nobleman, who was charmed with such unparalleled
v ^our. The body being brought off the field of
^ ttle, and the count, with the common curiosity^
* Ov. Met, lib. vi, fab. 4. f iEneid. lib. xi, ven 151f
i,
^
OF SORROW. 9
^oing to view it, the armour of the deceased was no
sooner taken off, but he knew him to be his own son.
This increased the compassion of all the spectators ;
only the count, without utterinff one word, or
changing his countenance, stood like a stock, with
his eyes fixed on the corpse, till the vehemency of
sorrow having overwhelmed his vital spirits, he sunk
stone dead to the ground*
The lovers, who would represent an unsupport*
able passion^ say, ,
Chx puo dir com' egli arde, ? m picciolfuoco!*
The man who can his ardent love declare.
Has of that passion but a scanty share.
rMiscro quod omnes
Ertpit sensus mihi : nam simul te,
Jjeslia, aspexi, rdhil est super mi
Quod ioquar amens ;
Lingua sed iorpet, tenues sub artus
FUrnima dlmanat ; sonitu suopte
Tirauant aures, gemina teguntvr
Lumma nocte,\
Thoij, Lesbia, robb'd my soul of rest.
And rais'd those tumults in my breast;
For while \ gaz'd in transports tost.
My oreath was gone, my voice was lost.
My bosom, glow'd; the subtle flame
Ran quick thro' all my vital frame :
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung.
My ears with liollow murmurs rung.
It appears from hence, that in the height and
greatest fury of the fit, we are not in a condition to
pour out our complaints, or to use persuasion, the
soul being at that time oppressed with profound
thought, and the body dejected and languishing
yrith desire ; and thence it is that sometimes proceed
those accidental impotencies which so unseasonably
•urprise the passionate lover, and that frigidity
ivhich, by the force of an immoderate ardour, seL *>»
^ * Petrarch, fol. 70, di Gab. GioUto at Venice, 1745.
f Cat.Epig.49,
JO arF SOBAOm
him, even in the very hqp of fruition : for all p;
sions that suffer themselves to be relished and di«
gested, are but moderate.
Cur(B leves loqiamtur^ ingenies stupeni.^
l^S^t griefs are plaintive^ but the great are dumb.
Other rf- Sudden and unexpected joy likewise produces the
jSf."*^ same effect-
Ui me conspexit venientem^ ei Troia circum
Arma omens vidit, magnis exterrUa menstris^
Diripdt visu in medio, color ossa reliquity
Labttur, et Imgo vix tandem tempore faiur.\
Soon as she saw me oomiag, and beheld
The Trojan ensigns waving in the field.
She was astonish'd at th' nnlodc'd for sight.
And, like a statue, lost all feeling quite.
Life's gentle heat did her stiff limbs forsake,
She swoon'd; at length with fault'ring t<mgue she spake*
Besides the examples of the Roman ladyt who died
for joy to see her son safe returned from the battle
of Cannae, and of Sophocles^ and Dionysius the
tyrant,§ who also both died of joy, and of Talva,||
who died in Cor»ca at reading the news of the
honours which the Roman senate had decreed for
* Seneca Hippol. Act. iL Scene S.
+ Virg. iEneid. lib. iii. vcr, 306. &c
X Pliny, NaL Hist. lib. vii. v. S^. Titus Livy relates an accident,
much like this, which happened afier the battle of Thrasimene, lib.
ilxii* cap. 7.
§ Pliny asserts positively, that the joy of having won the prize in
tragedy put an end to the days of Sophocles and old Dipnysius the
^rant of Sicily; see his NaL Hist. lib. viL cap. 5S. But, as to
Dionysius, if we ma^ believe Diodorus Siculus, the joy that pos*
sessed him, on his wmning the prize in traeedy, ran him into such
extravagancies as were the true cause of his death. ^ He was so
' overjoyed at the news,' says the historian, < that he made a ^eat
* sacrifice upon it to the Gods; prepared sumptv
ptuous feasts, to which
* he invited' all his friends, andt therein drank so excessively, that
' it threw him into a very bad distemper.' Lib* xv. cap. 20, of
Amyot's translation.'
II In Valer. M aximus, lib. ix. in Romanis, § 3, where he is calleid
M. Juventius Thalma; Pliny, who only says, that he died in making-
his^sacrifice, calls him, M. Juventius Talva, lib. viL cap. 53*
OUR AffXCTIOKa XXTENBE0) ETC 11
hhn, we have one in our time, viz. Pope Leo X.
who, upon the news of the taking of Milan, a thing
he had set his heart upon, was so overjoyed, that he
immediately fell into a fever, and died.* As a more
remarkable testimony of the weakness of human
nature, it is recorded, that Diodorus the logician
died upon the spot,t from excessive shame, not
being able, in his own school, and in the presence of
a great auditory, to resolve a quibbling question^
whidi was pronounced to him by Stilpo. For my
own part, I am very little subject to these violent
passions. I am naturally slow of apprehension,
which, by conversation, grows thicker and duller
t\exy day.
CHAPTER IIL
That Mr Afftctiom art extended beyond our
Existence.
JL HEY, who accuse mankind of the folly of gaping Mukind
always after ftiturity, and advise us to lay hold w ^^J^J^f^^
good which is present, as having too short reach tOrity.
seize that which is to come, a uiing even more im-
possible for us than to recover what is past, have hit
upon the most universal of human errors, if that
may be called an error, whereto nature itself haa
disposed us, which, for die-better continuation of her *
own work, has, among several others, impressed \x%
with this deluding imagination, as being more jealpua^
of what we do, than what we know. For we arc^
never present widi, but always bevond ourselves.,
Fear, desire, and hope violently pusn us on towards
what is to come, and deprive us of the sense and
* Francis Gaicciardin's Hialory of Italy, lib. xir. p. 394, vol. £.
t Pliny's Nat Hist. lib. tii. cap. 52.
1« OtTR AFFECTIONS'EXTENDED
consideration of that which is present, by amusing
us ivith the thought of what will be, even when we
shall be no more.
Calami toms est animus fiUuri anxius.*
Incessant fears the anxious mind molest.
The rfoty Plato often repeats this great precept,t Do what
•^.°*"- ifchou hast to do; and know thyself. Of these two
parts, each comprehends our whole duty in general
terms, and, in like manner, each includes the other ;
for he that would mind his own business, Ivill find,
that his ffi'st lesson is, to know what he is, and what
is proper for him : and he who rightly understands
himself, will never mistake another man's work for
his own, but will love and improve himself above all
other things ; will refiise superfluous employments,
and reject all unprofitable schemes and proposals.
As the fool, thbugh he should enjoy all that he can
possibly desire, would not be content ; so the wise
man acquiesces with the present, and is never dis-
satisfied. Epicurus exempts his wise men from all
foresight and care of fiiturity.
Therea- Amoug the laws relating to the dead, I look upon
JJ^ToHhc ^^^ ^ salutary by which the actions of princes are
law which to bc cxamiucd after their decease. They are, while
cMduc? of living, at least associates in making the laws, if not
princes to the m'astcrs of them ; and, therefore, what justice
cd in"o"^I could not inflict upon their persons, it is but rcason-
iCT t^hcir able should be executed upon their reputations, and
the estates of their successors, things tliat we
often value above life itself.t This is a custom of
singular advantage to those countries where it is ob-
served, and as much to be desired by aU good princes,
who have reason to be offended that the memories of
the wicked should be treated with the same respect
as their 's. We owe, it is true, subjection and obe-i
♦ Seneca, Epist 98.
. f In Timseu^ p. 544,'lEdit. Loemariane, at Lyons, 1590.
\ Diodorus of Sicily, lib. i. cap* 6.
BfitOND OUR EXt8Tl3N<?fi/ ^l»
dience to all kings alike, in regard- to their ofRce ;
but, as to affection and esteem, these arc only due* to .
their virtue. Admitting even that we ooght to be
passive under unworthy princes, to conceal their
vices, and commend their indifferent actions, whilst
their authority stands in nee<:l of our supiK>rt : yet,
when ail relation betwixt the prince and subject is at
an end, ther^ is no reason why we should not, for the
*ake of our own liberty, and of common jiistice,
publish our real resentments. To debar good- sub^
jects the glory of having reverently and faithftiUy
served a prince, whose imperfections they so well
knew, were to deprive posterity of an useful example.
And they who, out of respect to some obligation, un- ' ^
justly defend the memory of a bad prince, against
their own knowledge and consciences, perform a
private act of gratitude at tlie expence of public
justice. Titus Livius* very truly says, that the
language of courtiers is always sounding of vain
ostentation, and not to be depended on ; every one
indifferently extolling his own king's valour and
greatness to the highest pitch. It is not impossible
but some may condemn the courage of those two
soldiers, who boldly answered Nero to his face ; the
one being asked by him, t " Why he bore him ilU
*' will?" " I was true to thee," he said, " whilst
*' thou wast worthy of my love ; but when thou
** didst turn parricide, incendiary, a stage-player,
** and a coachman, I began to hate thee, and do so
" still/' And the other being asked, t " Why
** he had a design to take away his life ?" " Be-
*' cause," said he, " I had no other remedy against
"thy perpetual mischiefs." But, considering the
■public and universal testimonies that were given after
nis death (and will be to all posterity, both of him,
and all other bad princes like him) of his tyralnnical
and wicked practices, what man in his senses can
blame them ?
• Lib. locxv. c! 48; f Tach. Annal, 1. xr. c. 67. t ^^'^^' c. 6ft.
|« OUR AFFECTIONS EXTENDED
y«in cere- I con&ss, I BSH scancklized, that in so sacred a
JJJ^^^ government as that of the Lacedsemoniai^, . there
MODiani at should be SO hypocritical a ceremony used at the
tr£S^ death of their kings, when all their confederates and
i^BKs. neighbours, and all sorts and degrees of men and
women, as well as their slaves, cut and slashed th&t
foreheads, in token of sorrow, repeating in their
cries and lamentations,* that that king (let 'him have
been as wicked as the Devil) was the best they ever
)iad; thereby attributing to his quality the praise
that belongs to merit, and to the highest degree of
it, tiiough m the meanest member of tne community.
Aristotle, who leaves no subject untouched, makes
ReiectioBta querv upon the saying of Solon,t That none can
^^oml ^® s^^ *^ be happy before he be dead. Whether
Tis. That any person, who has even lived and died according
w«id to°to ^s heart's desire, can be termed happy, if he has
J«^|»ppy left an ill character behind him, or if his posterity is
^' miserable. Whilst we have life and motion, we con-
vey ourselves by fancy or anticipation whither, and
to what we please j but when once we are out of
being, we have no communication with the worlds
and therefore it had been better said of Solon, That )
no man is ever happy, because he is not so till afteir
he is no more* ! i .--, ^
before
-Etinde
Fix radidius i vita se tottit, ei gidt,
Sedfacit esse sui quiddam super inscius ipse,
Nfic removet satis a projecto corpore sese, et
. idicat.X—^
He boasts no sense can after death remain.
Yet makes himself a part of life again,
As if some other hs could feel the pain.
}
Tke dttd . Bertrand de Glesquin dying before the castle of
5^^" Rancon, near Puy in Auvergne, the besieged were
afterward, upon surrender, obliged to deposit the
keys of the place upon his corse. Bartholomew
^ Herodot lib. vi. p. 401. f Ibid* lib. I p. 14w
X Lucreu lib. liL Yen 890.
SETOND OUR CXiSTENCfi. H?
d'Alvisno, the Venetian general, happening to die
in their wars in Brescia, and his corpse being brought
back to Venice through the territories of Verona,
tine enemy's country, most of the army were for de-
siring a safe conduct for it from the Veronese ; but
TheodcMre Trivulsio opposed it, radier choosing to
make way for it by force of arms, at the hazard of a
battle, saying. It is not meet that he, who in his life
was never afraid of his enemies, should seem to fear
them when he was dead. And, in truth, in a case
of much the same nature, by the Greek laws, he who
made suit to an enemy fer the interment of a dead
body, did, by that act, renounce his victory, and
his right to erect a trophy; and.he, to whom such suit
was made, was ever reputed the conqueror. By this '
means, it was that Nicias lost the advantage that he
had visibly gained over the Corinthians, and that
Afresilaus, on the contrary, confirmed the doubtful
tiUe he had before to what he gained from the
Boeotians.
These proceedings might appear very odd, had itne opP
not been a general practice in all ages, not only to "^^"^^'fj^j
extend the care of ourselves beyond this life, but, the favoan
moreover, to &ncy, that very oflten the favours of ^^^pj^
Heaven accompany us to the grave, and continue nyibemio
even to oar relics. Of this there are so many in-**^*™^**
stances among the ancients, waving those of our own
time, that it is not necessary I should enlarge upon
the subject. Edward, king of England, the^f^st of
that name, having, in the long wars betwixt hijd and
Robert, king of Scotland, experienced of how great
advantage his own immediate presence was to his af-
fairs, as he had been always victorious where he
was personally engaged, when he came to die,
bound his son by a solemn oath, that, as soon as he
was dead, he should cause his body to be boiled till
the flesh parted from the bones ; and, afler burying
the flesh, to carry the bones continually with him in
his army, so often as he should be obliged to
^igainst the Scots ; as if victory had been chained
Tr
16 OUR AFFECTIONS EXTENinED
destiny to his joints. So John Zisca, who, in viniil-
cation of Wickliffe's heresies^ disturbed the Bohe-
mians, left order, that they should flea him after his
death, and make a drum of his skin, to carry into
the field against His enemies, fancying it would con-
tribute greatly to the continuation of the successes
he had obtained over them. In like manner, som^
of the Indians, in day of battle with the Spaniards,
carried with them the bones of one of their captains,
in consideration of the victories they had formerly
obtained under his conduct. And other people^ of
the same new world, do yet carry about with them,
in their wars, the relics of valiant men who have
died in battle, to excite their courage, and advance
their fortune. Of these examples, the first only re-
serve for the tomb the reputation they gained by
their achievements, but the latter attribute a certain
agency to their dead limbs. The behaviour of cap-
tain Bayard was more rational and magnanimous,
who, finding himself mortally wounded with a shot
fi'om a harquebuss, and being advised to retire out
of the field, made answer, that he would not begin
at the last gasp to turn his back to the enemy, and
fought on as long as he had strength ; till feeling^
himself too faint, and no longer able to sit his horse,
he commanded his steward to set him down against
the root of a tree, but in such a posture, that he
might die with his face towards the enemy ; which
he did.
The singa- I must jet add another example as remarkable, with
ofMaximu^^g^^d to the prcscut subject, as the former. The
liftn the emperor Maximilian, great grand&ther to Philip, the
tmperor. p^^geut king of Spain, was a prince richly endowed
with great qualities, and remarkably handsome, but
had at the same time a humour very contrary to that
of other princes, who, for the dispatch of their most
important affairs, convert their close-stool into a
chair of state, viz. That he never permitted any of
his valets, how much a favourite soever, to attend
him in his privy, but stole aside to make water ; and
tiEYOKD OltR £S:iST£KC£. 17
WAS ds shy as a virgin to discover either to his phy-
sician, or any other person whatsoever, those parts
of the body that are by custom kept secret. And I
mysdf, Who never blush at what I say, am yet na^
turall}^ so modest in this point, that, unless it be at
the importunity of necessity or pleasure, I very
rarely let any one see those parts and actions which
custom requires us to conceal. In this I also
sufler more constraint than I conceive is very well
becoming a man, especially of my profession. But
the emperor indulged this modest humour to such a
degree of superstition, as to give express orders in
his last will, that they should put him on drawers as
soon as he was dead ; to w^n, methinks, he would
have done well to have added by a codicil, that who-
ever put them on should be hoodwinked. The Cynu'f ns
charge which Cyrus left with his children,* that nei- JI^J^^/'"'
ther they, nor any other, should either see or touch
his body after the soul was departed from it, I attri-
bute to some superstitious devotion ; both his histo-
rian, and himself, amongst other great qualities,
having, iri the whole course of their lives, demon-
strated a singular attention and respect to religion.
I was by no means pleased with a story told me by
a great man, of a relation of mine who had been
very eminent both in peace and war, that, being ar-
rived to a very old age, and excessively tormented
with the stone, he spent the last hours of his life in
an extraordinary solicitude about ordering the pomp
and ceremony of his funeral, pressing all the men of
condition who came to see him, to promise their at-
tendance on him to his grave. He most earnestly
importuned the very prince, who visited him in his
last sanies, that he would order his &mily to join in
the raneral procession, urging several reasons and
examples to him, to prove that it was a respect due
to a person of his condition ; and, having obtained a
promise, and appointed the method and order of hii^
* Xenophon's Cyropttdii^ lib. tuL cap, 7f towards the end
VOL. I. . C
1$ OUR AFF£CTX0K9 k&tenped
funeral parade, Ke seemed to. die conteut. Sa mncli
vanity as this was, to the very last^ I scarce evear
kaew!
Fonermit Auothcr, though ft Contrary curiosity (of whicb
^el^to^ I do not want a domestic example), seems to be some-
vasBifi. what a-kin to this ; that a man shaU cudael his brains^
iMmm. ^^ ^® ^* moments of his life, to regiuate his ohse-
quies with so particular and upusual a parsimony, a^
to permit no more attendance than one single ser«-
vast with a lanthorn ;. and yet I see this humour
commended, as well as the appointment of Marcua
iEmiHus Lc^idus,* who forbade his hoirs to bestow
upon his corpse sa much as the common ceremonies
in use upon such occasions. Is it temperance and
frugality to avoid expense and pleasure^ when the
U3e and Imowledge thereof are by. us imperceptible i
An easy and cheap reformation tnis ! If instruction
were at all necessary, I should be of (pinion, that
this, as all other actions of life, should be reeulated
by every man's ability ; and the philosopher Lycont
Srudently ordered his executors to dispose of his bo-
y where they should, think most 6t, and as for his
funeral, to order it neither superfluous, nor too
mean. For my own part, I should wholly leave the
ordering of this ceremony to custom, i^nd to their
discretion to. whose lot it shall &I1 to do me that last
office. Totus hie locus est contemnendus in nobU, non
negligendus in nostrisA The place of our sepulture
is wholly to be contemned by us, but not to be neg-
lected by our friends ^ and it was a holy saying ofa
saint, Curatiojumris^ conditio sepulturtBy pompa ex^
efuiaruniy magis sunt vivorum solatia^ quam subsidia.
mQrtuorum;% i. e. the care of funerals, the place of
*■ Before he iMt^ he comnanded hia son to canry him to hm
sepulchre oa the bare bed, without linen, purplei &c. In Epitome
Livianfty ld>. sdviii.
t Diogenes Laertius, in Lycon's life> Ub. v. sect. 74, Edit*
WeUt. Amsterdam^ anno 1602.
i Cicero TuscuL lib. i. cap. 45.
§ August, de Cirit. Dei, lib. L cap* 18.
aepoiture, and the pomp of the obsequies, are rather
consolations to the living, than any benefit to tha
dead* From this consideration it was, that when
Criton asked Socrates, on his death bed, " How be
♦* would be buried ?'* The philosopher made him
anawer, " How ye will."* If I was to concern myv
self further about this ^f&ir, I should think it more
genteel to imitate those who entertain themselves,
while alive, with the ceremony of their own obse^
quies, and are pleased with beholding their own
dead coimtenances in marble. Happy are the men
who can regale and gratify their senses by insensibi*
lity, and live even when they are dead !
I am ready to conceive an implacable hatred cmci and
against all popular government (though I cannot but *^'"^^^i^^^»^']^
think it the most natural and equitable of all others), Sf 'the *^"
so oft as I call to mind the injustice and inhumanity A*|j<^n;f«"»
/» 1 At* 1 • 1 "^ as to the
of the Athenians, who, without mercy, or once banai of
vouchsafing to hear what they had to say for them« ****'' ^^^
selves, put to death their brave captains, newly re-
turned triumphant from a naval victory, which they
had obtained over the Lacedsemonians, near the Ar-
ginusian isles t (the sharpest and most obstinate en-
gagement which ever the Greeks fought at sea), for
no other reason but that the Greeks followed their
blow, and pursued the advantages prescribed them
by the law of arms, rather than stay to gather up
and bury their dead. An execution that was yet
rendered more odious, by the behaviour of Diome-
don, who, being one of the condemned persons, and
9 man of eniinent virtue, both political and military,
advancing tp speak, after having heard the sentence
(tiU when he was not allowed a peaceable hearing),
instead pf pleading his own cause, or proving tiie
ma^iifest impiety of so cruel a sentence, only ex-
l^ressed a concjernt: for the safety of his judges, be^
* Plato's Pbsdon/ towards the end.
tDiodorus of Sicily, lib. xiii. cap. SL Tbree islands to {he
of that of Lesbos.
% PioA«ras'«f Siaify^ Vh. xiii. cap. 52.
C 2
90 OUR AFFECTIONS TOO FAR EXTENDED.
seeching the gods to convert this sentence to their
own good ; and praying, that, for neglecting to jJay
those vows that he and his companions had made
(which he also acquainted them with) in acknow-
ledgment for so glorious a success, they might not
pull down the indignation of the gods upon them ;
after which he went courageously to his execution.
^jjM»«- Fortune, not many years after, dealt them the
same bread : for Chabnas, captain-general of their
-naval forces, having ^ot the better of Pollis, admiral
of Sparta, about the isle of Naxos, totally lost the
fruits of his victory* (of very great importance to
their ai&irs), and lest he should incur the misfor-
tune of the Athenian captains, he qhose to save a
few bodies of his dead friends that were floating on
the sea, which gave opportunity to a great number
of his living enemies to sail away in safety, who af-
terwards made them pay dear for this unseasonable
superstition.
Quieris quojaceas post obitum loco f
Quo non natajacent.f
Dost ask where thou shalt lie when dead?
With those that ne'er yet being had.
This other passage restores the sense of repose to' a
body without a soul :
Nieque sepulcrufn, quo redpiaiy habeat portum corporis : idn,
remissa humana vita, corpus requiescai a malis.X
Nor with a tomb as with a haven blest,
Where, after life, the corpse in peace may rest.
Just SO nature demonstrates to us^ that several^
dead things still retain an occult relation to life.
Wine changes in cellars, according to the changes of
tlie seasons of the vine from whence it came ; and the
flesh of venison is said to alter its condition in the
powdering-tub, and to vary its taste, according ta
the reasons of the living flesh of its kind.
♦ Diodorus of Sicily, lib. xv. cap. 9.
f Seneca Tr. Chor. ii. ver. 30. X Cioeio Tuscul. lib. L cq), H.
BOW THE SOUL DISCHiJtOES ITS PASSIONS. 91
CHAPTER IV.
Haw the Saul discharges its Passions, upon false Ob-
jectSj when the true are wanting.
A. GENTLEMAN ofmy country, who was frequent-*
\y tormented with the gout,being often importuned by
his physicians to abstain from salt meats, used to re-
ply merrily, That therq was a necessity for his having The moi
something to auarrel with in the extremity of hisJJJJi^*^
pain, i^nd that ne fancied, that sometimes railing at,j««»ft"^»M
and cursing the Bologna sausages, at other times t^SS"'
ihe dried tongues, and the gammpn, was some mi- *"[* •'
tigation of it. And in truth, as we are chagrined if **'
the arm which is advanced to strike misses the mark,
and spends itself in vain ; and as also, that to make
a prospecjt pleasant, the sight should not be lost and
dilated jn the sether, but have some bounds to limit
it at a reasonable dists^nce ;
Ventus u{ amttit vireSf nisi robore detw
Occwrant sylvce, spqtio. 4iffusUs inani.*
As winds exhaust th^ strength, unless withstood
By some thick grove of strong opposing wood.
In like manner it i^ears, that the soul, being agi-^
tated and discomposed, « lost in itself, if it has not
something to encounter with, and therefore always
requires an object to aim at, and ke^ it emploved.
Flutareh says very well of those who are fond of hpA
dogs and monkeys, that the amorous part whidti is /
in us, for want of a xk^ ol^ect, rather than lie idle> ^
does, in a manner, forge m t^e fancy one that is
false and frivolous. And we see that the soul, in '
the exercise of its passions, rather deceives itself by
creating a false and fantastical subiect, i^yei^ contrary
to its own belief, than not to nave something to
work upon. Afler this manner brute beasts spen^
• Lvcan, \ib, ill ver* S62i 365^
2S natr i^ iimjh
their fiiry upon the stone or weapon that has hurt
them, and are ready to tear themselves to pieces fop
the injury they havTe received from another :
Pannonis haud aliter post ictutn savior ursa
Cuijactdum parva Lybis amentavit halena^
Se rotat in vulnus, tetufnque irata recepinm
Jmpetit, et semm fugientem circuit hasiamJ^
So fierce the bear, made fiercer by tbe smart
Of the bold Lyblan's moital*wounding dart,
l\irns round upoii the wound, and the tough spear
Contorted o'er her breast does flying bear.
ifankind's Wl;iat causes ojf the misfortunes that be&ll us do
thlfa^a? we not ourselves invent ? 'What is it that we do not
nimate for blame, Tiffht or wroug, that we may have something
S? thrfT^^ to quarrel with ? Those beautiful tresses, young la*
passioni. ^y^ which you tear off by handfuls, are no way guil-
ty y nor is it the whiteness of that bosom, which you
Sfnite with so much indignation and cruelty, that
with an unlucky bullet has killed your dear brother :
quarrel with something else. Livy, speaking of the
Roman army in Spain, says, that for the loss of two
brothers, their great captains, Flere omnes repentCj
et offensare capita \\ all wept, and beat their fore-r
heads : but this is a common practice. And the phi-
losopher Bion said pleasantly of the king who pluck-^
ed off the hair of lits head- for sorrow, ^ Does this
^* man think that baldness is a remedy for gridf ?''t
Who has not seen game^rs bite and gnaw th^ cards,
and swallow the dice in tevenge for dbe loss of their
HiTiney ? Xenpes lashed the sea^ and wrote a cha!?
lenge to Mount Athosi§ Cyrus set a whole aim^
several daysN at 'work, to reVenge himteif on t]ie n-
* Imam» H). vi, ver.
+ Livy, Dec. III. lib. v. Luc. lib. >xv. cap. 37f
I Cic. Tusc. Quaest. lib. iii. cap. 26. '
5 ttetoActt. lib. vn. p. *5fi.
« ^1 ibicL Ifti. i. p. 86» 87, land Sea^ dc^ IkB, Kbw iii. cqp. 21.
Ilerodotua 8«y8 kxprefslj, thut C vn^s ipcaDt ^ whole siininier about
this fine expedition. And Paiu Orosius, who is as incorrect as
Montaigne, though in a contrary sense, says, that Cyrus eniploye4
|dl his troops on this work a idiole y^at*, ptrpeti 'unno^ lib. iL cap. 6.'
miimmff» Its ^AMitttn. 9
vfer Giridu*,* ibr the iright it had put him in when
he was passing *<yvef it ; and Caligula demolished a
Very beautiftd pldace,t for the eonfinement his mo-
ther had there.
I Tcmember there w;a8 a stoiy when I was a boy,^»p«*'-
fliat one of our neighb^iing kings, having been^^^k^j*^
cmitten by the httnd of CJtoo, swore he would be re*
^nged; and he or^ed a proclamation, that, for
ten yeai^ to come, no pet^on in his donrinipns should
Era^ to him, or so much as^menticm Kim, or even'
elieve in him : by which we are not so much to
take measure of the fbUy, as i^f 4he vain^gldnr pecu-*
liar to the nation of wluch this story was tQld. They
are vices, indeed, that always go together,, but such
actions as these have more of temerity in them than
of [Stupidity. Augustus Cq^sar, having been tossed
with a tempest at sea,t fell to defying the god Nep-
tune, and, in the pomp of the Circensian games, to
be revenged^ deposed bis BteitR^ from the place it
had amongst the other deities. In this he was less
dxcusaMe than in the^^mer, and less >too than he
was aflerwards, when, tatving .lost a battle under
Quintilius Varus in Germany, he rayed like a HHid^
man, and sometimes ran his head against the waUi^
pi;ymg out, *♦ 0 Varus, give me my legiow again!"$
'« Or Gyndm, I^^ bb HeMotus dal^ It ' S^emi ati4 Tibuihui|
}Sb* iv. eann. i. ver. 141.-«^apM^ti^ Cvri dementia^ O^fttdes.
f Seneca de Ira, lib^ iii. c» 22» Cigsar villam in Herculanenn
mdcherrimdm^ quia sua mater aliquando in iUa custodUa erat^ diruitf
I. e. GaesoF deittdiyied tim nf^t oeautHiil city in th^ Herculfinemn,
becftUse his mother wfis oaoe impH^aiiied in it. I quciftti^n 'vrhettsSF-
M<mtaigiie rightly uiidefitaod SeniBea'B n^e^ning; oiv I inu^pn^i
that in8t$94 of jJaisir^.he wou}d haye iifie4 the wcu^ deplaisir, be-
cause it agrees perfectly v^ll wiYh idi&t Senate gftyg, *< of her haV*i
^ ifig been conmied there as in a]^isoB.** In'one df'ihe first edio .
ttcms i3t the Esaojto ia ftenmh^fdaurr was» by inivlmtenoy, printodl I
iBstead of deplaidr^ wluch mistaj^e was 'from tlience continued a f
idl the fiueceeding editions; at least, it is the 'same iq all that Lhave |
Been Ahs to covf^; andfiEVih idience Mr. Cotton used the ^ifAj
pleasure.
% SuetoninSy in the life of Augustiiiy sect. 1^
^ 6uetoflMi, ftid. «eclr 9»^
l^or theirs exceeded all foUy^ becaufle it was attend*-
ed with impiety, by carping at Gap himRelf, or at
lea9t at fortune, as if she had ears to be dinned with
our complaints ; like the Thracians,*. who, when it
thunders or lightens, fall to shooting against Heaven
ijirith Titanian vengeance, as if by flights of arrows
they thought to r^uce the Deity to reason. Now
as the ancient poet in Plutarch tells us, in his treatise
of contentment, or the peace of the mind, chap. 4.
of Amyot's translation,
Poini fie se faut cawmmcer aux affaires:
II ne leur ckaut de toutes nos chderes.
We must not rave at Heaven in our affidrs,
Whidi finr ouf indignadon oodiing cares.
lSi\\t we can never enough condemn our unruly pas-
sions.
CHAPTlBR V.
Whether the Gwemor of a Place besieged ought-
himself to go out to parley.
JUUCIUS MarciuSjt the Roman Legate, in the
war against Perseus, king of Macedon, in order to
gain time for putting his army into a good conditicm,
set on foot some overtures of accommodation, with
which the king, being lulled asleep, concluded a ces-
sation for a certain number of days, thereby giving
his enemy opportunity and leisure to strengthen their
army, which prove4 his own final ruin; yet the
elder sort of senators, mindful of their forefathers'
customs, condemned this proceeding, as injurious
to their ancient practice, which, they said, was to
tto^ ??*" %^' ^y ^^^^ valour, and not by stratagem, sur*
* Herodot. lib. iv. cap. 289.
t Titus Livy calls him Quintus Maicchu, lib. xiii. oq>. 37« &^^
OUGHT TO QO OUT TO PARLEY. 2S
pmnting both the hour and place of battle. Out of
this honest principle it was, that they sent back to
Pyrrhus liis treacherous physician, and to the He-
trurians their disloyal schoolmaster. And this Avas
indeed a conduct truly Roman, without any mixture
of the Grecian subtlety, or the Punic cunning, with
who^ it waa reputed not so honourable to overcome
by force as by fraud. The latter may be of service
for once, but he only reckons himself fairly over-
come, who knows he is subdued neither by policy,
nor chance, but by mere dint of valour, hand to
hand, in a £dr and generous battle.* And it is plain^
by the language ofthese good old senators, that this
fine sentence was not yet admitted amongst them,
r^f^-Dolus an virtus quis in hoste requiratf\
All arts arc lawful that defeat a foe.
The Achaians, says Polybius, abhorred all manner
of fraud, not reputing it a victory, unless where the
courage of the enemy was fairly quelled. Earn vir
mnctus et sapiens sciet veram esse vicioriamj qua
salva Jidej et Integra di^nitate parabitur.t An
honest and a wise man will allow that only to be a
true victory which is obtained without breach of
£uth, or stain of honour. Another says,
Viisne velitj an me regnare kera, qwdveferat ftn-Sj
Virtute experiamur.^'
In brave contention let us fight, to know
On whom dajme Fortune wiU the palm bestow.
In the kingdom of Temate, the chief of the Mo- a people
lucca islands, amongst those people whom we so^^J^
roundly call !Qarbarians, they have a custom never «>««. ^itii-
to commence w?^r till it be first proclaimed ; adding ^"oo^SJT
withal, an ample declaration of what means are in ^^^^
their power to carry it on, with what, and how many*
mjen, what ammunition, and what arms, both ofien-
* Liv. lib. xiy. cap. 4S, 47. t -*neid, lib. ii. ver. 390-
% FloruSf lib. i. cap. 12.
} Eiinius apod Cicero, lib. i. de Offic cap. 12,
sive and ddensivc ; but thkt being donfe, they after-
\frards conceive it lawful to employ, without reproach,
any means that may best conduce to their success in
The Ro- the war. The ancient t'lorentines wtre so fiir from
J!^*uIiLei! Peeking any advantage over their eftemies by stir*
war by t)rize, that they always gave them a month's wartimg
toiunga before they. drew their army into the field, by Ifete
(continual tolling of a bell they called Martinella,
As for us who are not so scrupulous in this affair,
and who attribute the glory of a battle to him wfco
has the better of it, and Who say with Lysander,*
** Where the lion'^s skin is too short, we mtirt eke it
Themmt ** out with the fox*s casc;" the mdst common oc*
u^OTg^*'*"Gasi6ns of surprise are derived froAi this practice,
publicly and we hold, that there are no moments in which
ril^ the general ought to be more upon his gtAard, than
those of parleys and treaties of accommodation. It
is therefore become a general maxim in these times,
iJiat a governor of a place never ought, in a time of
siege, to go out to parley. It was for this reason
that, in our ancestors* days, Messieurs de Motitmard
and d'Assigni were so highly censured in theif
defence of Mouson against the count de Nassati j
yet in this case it would be e:ftcusable in that goyer^
nor, who, if he went oiit, should take care that the
safety and advantage should be on his side^ as count
Guide (Je Rongoni did at Reggio (if we may believe
Bellay, for Gucciardine say it was he himself) when
Mons. 'de TEscut advanced to parley, who stepped
so little a way from his fort, that a dkorder happen^
ing.in the interim of ihe parley^ not only Mons. da
TEscut and his party, who" were advanced with him,
found themselves by much the weaker (insomuch
that Alessandro de Trivulcio was there slain), but
he himself was compelled, as the safest way, to foL
low the count, and rely upon his .honour, to shelter
himself from the shot within the very walls of the
town. Eumenes, being shut.u{) in the city of Nora
* See his life by Kutai'ch, eh^. 4, translated by Amyi^ -
OUGHT T0 Gtt OlTT M PARLEY. #|f
by Antigonus,* and by him importuned to come out
to hold a parley with him, ad he ^ent him word, it
was fit he should to a greater and better man than
himself, and one who had now an advantage over
him, he returned him thib noble answer, ^^ Tell
" him,** said he, ** that I shall never ihifik any man
*• better than myself, whilst I wear a sword ;" and
he would not consent to go Out to him, till, acccMrd-*
ing as he demanded, Antigonus had delivered hkn
his own nephew Ptolomeus in hostage. And yet
srnne have fai'ed very #ell in going out to hold a
^rley with the besieger. Witness Henry de Vaux,
a gentleman of Champagne, who being besieged in
the castle of Commerdy by the English, under the
command of Bartholomew de Bonnes,! who had so
sapped most of the out-Works of the castle, thsk
nothing reifiained but slating fire to the mine^ to
bury the besieged under the ruins, he requested the
said Heniy to come out to hold a parley with him
for his owtl good ; which Henry doing accordingly^
with three mote in company, and his evident ruin
being made apparent to him, be thought himself
singularly obliged to the enemy, tb whom he sur*
rendered with his garrison at discretion, and then
fire being applied to the mine, the props immediately
fell, and the castle was blown up, so that not one
sto^e was left upon another. 1 am very ready to
give credit to the faith of another person, but I
should be very loth to do it in a case^ where it
should be supposed I did it rather from despair, and
watft of courage, than voluntarily, and from a com
fidencfe in the sincerity of the person with whom I
bad to do.
f Hutarch's li£g of Euraenes, cap. 5.
t Vol i. ch. 209. Froiasart, from whom Montaigne relate! ihm^
fBUB him Bartholoinetir de Brones.
M THE TIME OF
CHAPTER VI.
The Time of Parleys dangerous.
Y ET I lately observed that at Mussidan, in mf
neighbourhood, those who were drove out of it by
our army, complained, with others of their party,
that, during a treaty of accommodation, and m the
very interim that the deputies were treating, they
were surprised by treachery, and cut to pieces : a
&ct which, perhaps, in another age, might have been
coloured over ; but, as I said before, the custom of
war in these days is quite different, and there is now
no confidence to be placed in an enemy, till after
the last seal of obligation ; and even then there is
danger enough ; so hazardous a thing it is, and ever
was, to trust the observation of the faith engaged
to a town which capitulates upon easy and favour-
able terms, to the licentiousness of a victorious army,
and to give soldiers free entrance into it in the heat
The faith of blood. Lucius iSmilius Regillus, a Roman
^""^^'^ praetor, having lost time in attempting to take the
Mcertftrn. city of Phocopa by force, by reason of the singttloF
valour wherewith the inhabitants defended them-
selves, conditioned at last to receive them as friends
to the people of Rome, and to enter the town as
into a confederate city, securing them fcom the fear
of any hostility :* but having, for the greater pomp,
brought bis whole army in with him, it was not m
his power, with all his endeavour, to restrain his
men : so that avarice and revenge being too hard for
his authority, and for the military disoipline, he saw
a considerable part of the city pillaged before hfa
face. Cleomenes used to say, " That what mischief
". soever a man could do his enemy in time of war
** was above justice, and that he M:as not account?
" able for it in the sight of the gods and men."
And having concluded a truce with those of Argot
• Livy, lib. xxxviL cs^. 82t
for seven clays, he fell upon them the third night
after, when they were all in a profound sleep, and .
put tiiem to the sword, alleging for his excuse, that
m the truce there was no menticm of nightis ; but the
gods punished his perfidy.
In a time of parley also, and while the citizens
thought themselves very secure, the citypf Cassilinum
was taken by surprise, and that too in the age of the
justest captains, and when the discipline of the
Roman militia was in its perfection : for it is not said,
that it is not lawful for us, at a proper time and place,
to make an advantage of our enemies' want of under-
standing, as well as their want of courage. And,
doubtless, war has naturally a great many privileges
that are justifiable even to the prejudice of reason.
And therefore here the rule fails, Neminem id agere
ut ex alteriiis pradetur imcitia.* That no one
should make an advantage of another's folly. But I
am astonished at the great liberty allowed in such
cases by Xenophon, in his Cyropffidia, and that both
by the determinations and the several exploits of his
complete emperOr. He is an author, 1 confess^ of
mucn weight in those afiairs, as being, in his own
person, both a great captain, and a philosopher of the
first form of the disciples of Socrates ; but I cannot
come into such a latitude as he dispenses with in all
things and places. Monsieur d' Aubigny, having be-
sieged Capua, and played a furious battery against it,
signior Fabricio Colonna, governor of the town,
having begun to hold a parley from one of the bas-
tions, and his soldiers, in the mean time, being less on
their guard, our men took ity and put all to the sword.
And of later memory, at Yvoy, signior Juliano
Rommino, having been such a novice as to go out to
hold a p^ley wi^ the constable, at his return found
the place taken^ But that we might not go unre-
venged, the marquis de Pescaro, having laid siege to
Genoa, where duke Octavio Fregosa commanded
* Cicerp de Offic* lib. iii. cap. 17.
Qndc^ our protection, when the actides of oapitiiilii-
tion were so far advanced, that it was looked upon
as good as concluded, several Spaniards, being slipped
m% made use of this treachery, as an absolute vic-
tory. And since that time, at Ligny in the Barrois^
where the count de Brienne conunanded, the em-
peror having besieged it in person, and Bertheville^
the said count's lieutenant, going out to hdd a par-
]bey, whilst he waa capitulating, the town wa^ taken*
They say,
Fu U vittcer sempre max UfudalM cosoy
Vincasi d perforturui, q per ingegno.*
That conquest ever was a ^orious thing, . ^
Which way soe'er the conqu'ror purclias'd k.
Whether it was by fortune, or by yrit.
But the jAilosopher Chrysippua was not of this
opinion, nor I heartily ; for he said,t That he whQ
runs a race, ought to exert all his strength in spe^ ;
but that it is by ho means fair in him to lay hand
upon his adversary, to stop him, or to set a leg
before him to throw him down. And yet more
fenerous was the answer of the great Alexander tp
Wypercon, when he persuaded him to take advan-
tage of the darkness of the night to fall upon D^
rius : By no means, said he ; I do not want to steal
a victory, I had rather be sorry for my fortune, than
ashamed of my victory.t
jltque idemfugientem haud est dignaius Orodem
SternerCf nee jacta caecum dare cuspide vtdnus :
Obvius adversoque occurrit^ seque viro vir
Contulii ; haudfurtOTnelior^ sedfortilms amus,^
His heart disdain'd to strike Orodes dead.
Or in his back to stab him as he fled.
Then with disdain the haughty victor Ticw'd
Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursu'd :
Nor thouglit the dastard's back deserved a wound.
But hast'ning to o'ertake liim, gain'd the giiound •
Then, turning short, he met him face to foce.
To give his victory the better grace.
♦ Arioato, cant. xv. ver. 1,2. f Cicero de OfBc lib. iii. cap. 10.
X Quint Curtius. lib* iv. cap. IS. f iEoeid. lib. x. ver. 752.
UrrSVTlOW TH£ T£ST OF ACTIONS*
CHAPTER VII.
Th(U ^^r Actionf are 0 l^ Judged by* the Intention,
XT is a common sayiQg» *^ That death disGhi^rge^ m i" wiat
"of aUour obligations." Yet I know some th»tSl;"*
have taken it in another se^se. Henry VII. kiog c^^ottM.
England, articled with Don Philip, son to Maximir uom "'***
lian the emperor, or to ^ve him. the more honour-
able appellation^ father to the emperor Charles V.
that the s^d Philip shoul4 deliver up to hiin his
enemy, the duke of SuJSUk, of the Wliite Rose, who
ha4 taken refine in. the Netherlands, and promised
that, Hpon such surrender of him, he would attempt
wthiqg against the said duke's life, in which he was
W good as his word, but when he came near to his
latter end, he enjoined his scm^ by his last will and
testament, to put him to dieath immediately after his
decease. And lately, in the tragedy which the duke
of Alva {Mresented to us at Brussels, in the persons
q£ the counts of Horne and Egmont, there were
many very remarkable passages, one of which was,
that the said count of Egmont (upon the security of
whose word and honour the count of Horne sun-
rendered himself to the duke of Alva) eifiirhestlj
^itreated that he miffht first mount the scadoJd, tp
the end that his deatE might, disengage him from his
obligation to the coujat Horne. In tins case, me«
thinks, deadi did not acquit the king of his. engage-
ment^and the count of I^mont was acquitted of ms,
even though he had not died. We cannot be bound
beyond our abilities: and because the effects and
performances are pot in our power, and as in truth
there is nothing in our power but the will^ it is on
this that all the rules of man's duty are necessarily
founded and establised. Thus the count of Egmont,
thinking his soul and will bound to his promise.
S« tNTENTlON THE TEST OF ACTIOKS^
though he had not the pow^r to make it good, had
doubtless been absolved of his obligation, even if he
had outlived the count of Home. But the king of
England, breaking his faith by previous intention,
could ho more excuse himself for deferring the ex-
ecution of his treachery till after his death, than
Herodotus's mason,* who, having kept the treasures
of the king of Egypt, his sovereign, inviolably secret
in his life-time, discovered it at his death to his
children.
Sfttiifkc- I have known many persons in my time, who,
dMUh^inl'^ being reproached by their consciences of with-hold-
lisoificaot. mg the property of another person, have aimed i^
making satis&ction by their last will and testament;
and aner their decease ; but they do nothing who
take so much time in so pressing an affidr, or who
think to repair an injury with so little compunctioR
and expense. They owe, besides, something of
what they have in their immediate possession ; and
the more they incommode themselves, by restoring
what they have unjustly taken, the luster and the
more commendable is their sati^action ; for peni-
tence requires penance. Tliose do yet wowe, who,
by their last will, declare a mortal animosity against
their neighbour, which they had concealed in their
Kfe-time, wherein they shew their little regard to
their own honour, by irritating the person offended
against their memory ; and less to their conscience,
not having the power, even in respect to death, to
let their malice «lie with them, but extending its ex-
istence beyond their own. Unjust judges, who de^
fer judgment to a time when they can have no
knowledge of the cause ! for my part, I shall take
what care I can, that my death make no discoveiy
of what my life has not first, declared, and that
publicly.
* Herodotus, lib. iL p. 151«
b^ IDLENESS* S3
CHAPTER VIIL
Of Idleness'.
JilS we sBe some lands that have lain Mow, if tHd
soil is &t and fertile, produce innumerable sorts of
wild herbs that are good for notliinj^, for want of
being cultivated and sown with certain seeds pro^
per for our sendee ; and as we ^d tbat some
women who have not. known men, do of themselves .
bring forth shapeless lumps and pieces of flesh, and
that to cadsfe a proper and natliral gieneration, it is
necessary to impregnate them with another kind of
seed : even so it is with our minds. Which if not ap*
plied to some particular subject to check and re-
'strain them, rove about confusedly in the vague ex*
|Muise of imagination t
Sicut a'qu{e trefnidurn laV^is uhi l&nten ahenis
Sok repetcussttnif out radiantis itriigipe UtncPy
Omnia pervolkat lot} loca, jalmque sub aura$
Erigilur*^ summiquefmiiaqueeriaiectu*
Thus translated by Mi:. DaYDEiJ.
.So when the sun by day, or moon by night, .
§Crikes on the polbhed bnm their trembling lignt^
The glitt'rfn^ species heire and there divide^
jSxA caist their dubious beams from side to side;
Now on the walb, bow oh the jpe^ement play>
And to the ceiling flalh the glaring day.
in which agitation, ther^ is no fdU^r, nor idle
&ncy, which toey do not create :
^lut €Pgri smnia, varae
Fingimiur spedes^-^ 1
liike sick men's dreams, d»t from a troubled braiU
Phantasms cr^te^ ridiculous and vain.
The soul that has no est«)^lish6d limit to circum-
ftcribQ it, loses itsetf; for, aft the epigrammatist says,
^ i«neid, H). vnL rer. 22. f Hot. Art. Pdet. tcr. 7, 8.
VOU I. D
94
Idlraess
bewilders
the mind.
OF UARS.
Quisquis tihique halitai, maxime nusquam halitaif
He that is every where, is no whtri.
When I lately retired to my own house, with a
resolution to avoid all manner m concern in afl^rs
aa much as possible, and to spend the small »e-
mainder of my life in privacy and ji6ace, I fkncied I
could not give my mind more enjoyment, than to
leave it at full liberty to entertain rest, and compose
itself: which I also noped that it might do the more
easily hencefbrwards, as being by time become moJfe
settled and improved : but I find,
w,^ variam semper dant otia mentepi^'f
- ■■■■Even in tbe mo$t retired states,
A UiQUfiapd Uioughts an idle life creates.
-that, on the contrary, like a horse broke loose, which
runs away with greater speed than the rider would
put him to, it gives birth to so many chimeras^ add
fantastic monsters, one upon the neck of another,
without order aqd design, that, for the sake of sur-
veying the folly and absurdity of them when I list, I
have begun to draw o, catalogue of them, hoping in
time to make my mind ashamed of itself»
lti#-MM9
> CHAPTER IX,
Of Liar9n
Mmi- X HERE is not ^ man whom It would so ill become
i^nfo^Ton t^ l)oast of memory as myself^ fin* I own I have
that he has scarcc any, and do not think that in the world there
happy'^mZ ^^ anothcF SO deftctivc as mine. My other Acuities
mory. arc all mean and cJommon ; but in this respect, I
l^i^k my9elf so^ singular and rare;, as to deserve a
moFQ thaa ordinary clia^acter^ Besides the inccmvt^
* MfiirtiaL Hb» vii, qp. 72.
\ Lucan. lib. iv. ttr. 70^
9rukm a
tniMe I iuitura% sttfii^r from this defept &f ibemary
(&F in truth, thc^ fiecesMry use of it dotiskkred, Plattf
might well cdl it a griatt niid powerful goddei^s), in
my country, when they would sigfiiQf that a thm ii
void of sen^e, they slay that he hS^ no ttiimdry ) and
when I complaiii of the dc^t of tuiite, they reprovd.
me, and do not think I mi in eatne^t by aecusilig
myself for a foot ^ fiir they do not disdetn the difl^
rence betwixt memory and «inde»tanding, ifr whioh
they make me worse than I reallv am : lot^ (^ thd
contrary, we rathef ind^ by expeitence, that a strolig
inemory is liabk to be aceompafiied \^th a weak
judgment} and, as I ac^t myself innothiiig 66 well
as tihie &irad, they do me another w#6ngin this re^
spect, that, by the same wordd witfi^ whiDh they ac-^
case my infirmi^, they represent me a^ uc^teAd*
They bring my a£fectiaa into qikestion ufdiA Aecotf nt
<>f my memory, and turn a natural imperfection inttf
a bad conscience. He ha^ fbrgot, say they, this
request, 6r that promise ; he does not remember his
iHenda ^ he has fbrgot to say, or to conceal s^h
a thing for my sake. It Is triie, I am apt to be foN
getftil, but am not indigent about any th^fg tHiich
a friend has given me in chargtf^ It is enough that '
I sufibr the miitforttime, wwiout being branded
with a sort of malice, a vice so contrary to my ,na^
ture.
This, however, is my comfort i firdt> that It Is aiitheiijvana
evil from whieh prinei^alfy I have found tdasdn tOh^^rtrmif
correct a worse, that would have grown upon me^frobiiiis
namely, ambition i for this is an intoleral^ o def«6e id '^l^'^^f^^
those who are encumbered with the management of
public business. And (as several exampiM of iM
nkekind, in the progress of natufe demons&ai6) ih^
gsreater is this defect, I iSnd my other ftcidties tke
Stronger m proportion^ I shotdd have been apt t^
havo retted my undemaAding and judMi^t oft b^6f
asen's^ and have lazily Mtfwed their fi>otsteps>i«i«h«
out exerting my own strength, had any strange in-
ventions aikl opiadons oetft^rred to me, by the help of
I>2
36 OF hlASSi
my memory. By this means too I ain not s6 talktU
tive ; for the magazine of the memory is apt to be
better stored with matter than that of the invention s
, and, had my memory been good, I had, ere this^
deafened all my friends by my babble ; for the sulv
jscts themselves, by rousing tnat sort of talent which
I have^ of handling and applying them, wolildhave
animated and spun out my discourses< It is pity^
but it is no less true, that I have observed in some of
my intimate friends, who, when their manories rc-»
present a thing to thenx entire, and as it were in pre-
. «ent view, begin their story so far back, and crowd
it with so many impertinent circumstances, that, if
the story be good in itself, they spoil it; and, if it be
bad, you are either to curse the strength of their
memory, or the weakness of their judgment. It is
a diiScult matter to close up a narration, and to cuC.
it short in its career. Neither is there any thing that
more discovers the strength of a horse^ than when it
makes a full stop with a grace ; and of those men who
talk pertinently, I know some who would, but can-
iiot, stop short ; for, whilst they are seeking a period
for the narration, they talk idly, and drawl out their
words like men that have scarce strength to utter
them.^^ld men especially, who yet retain Hie me-
mory of things past, but forget how ofiten they have
related them, are dangerous companions ; and I have
.. , known very pleaisant stories told oy a man of quality,
that became very nauseous, by being repeated a hun*
dren times over in the same company.,^ The second
obligation I have to this weak memory of mine is^
that I less remember the injuries done to me, so that
(as the ancient said) I should have a prompter, like
Darius, who, that he might not forget the afiront hd
. hud received from the Athenians, whenever he sat
down to table, ordered one of his pages to repeat
three times in bis ear, ** Sir, re<nember the Athe-
nians;"* morepver, the places wldoh I revisit^ and
OF LIARS. 37^
the books whieh I read over again, always seem-new
to nae.
It is not witliout reason said, that he who has not a iter
a good memory, should never offer to tell liesl IbmL^
know very well, that the grammarians distinguish be-««»»»7-
twixt an untruth and a lie, ami say, that to tell an
untruth is to tell a thing that is false, which we our-
selves however believe to be true ; and that the Latin
word mentiriy i. e. cantra mentem ircj means to go
and act against the conscience ; and that therefore
this only touches those who speak contrary to what
they know, who are the persons I point at* Now
these do either wholly invent a story out of their own
heads, or else mar and disguise one that has a real
foundation. When they disguise and alter, by often
telling the same story, they can scarce avoid con-
tradicting themselves, by reason that the real fact,
having fast taken possession in the memory, and
being there imprinted by the way of knowledge and
science, it will be ever ready to present itself to the
imagination, and to dislodge falsehood, which can-
not have so sure and settled a footing tliere a)s cer-
tainty ; and because the circumstances which they
first heard, evermore running in their minds, make
them forget those that are forged or foisted in. ' As
to what they wholly invent, forasmuch as there is no
contrary impression to give a shock to their forgery,
there seems ix) be the less danger. of their tripping;
and yet even this also, by reason it,is a mere phan-
tom, and not to be laid hold of, is very apt to escape
the memory, if it be not very perfect. , I have had
very pleasant experience of this, at the expense of
such as profess only to accommodate their discourse
to the business^they have in hand, or to the humour of
the great men with whom they converse; for the
circumstances to which they are ready to sacrifice
their honour and conscijsiice^ being Subject to several^
changes, their language must needs vary at the same
time ; from when(ie it happens, that, of the -same
thing, they tell, one man, it is this ; and another, it
• by accident those men compare notes upon informer
tiiW^ B0 oontrffrjp^ wk^t MOflimeB ^ tiiis iSmi vt'?.
J[esid««, ttlisy «r9 such ^1^9 thl^t this^ Qf|be« caatr^t
4i(tt thftfii9elV9s 5 ft^ wh«| a nwfuary riwd they have,
to ]?9t*itt w inaqy 4i&r€qt forna^ qs they hitve forgi^
UfW 940 md the si^fi subject I I h^v^ blown
l^y, in my tlm^, yeiy imhitioua of the reputaticm
«^ t]|9 finp sort of wi^dw J^ but they do not »ee, that
it th^e be a reputfition in it, it can i^sw^ i» end- ,
Lying a V- Jp p^aiQ trutt|» Lvipg is a curbed vic*» We axe
^ce?^^ " WW whp have no other tie uppn (Hie nnother but onr
word. If we cpfi^e^^^ the horrid ^omeq^ences of
A lie, we ^oul4 pr opecute it with vengeance, as the
DForstof^iines.
hy\iifi and I perceive how absurdly children are usually cor»
ni^^two rected for inpocent ^ults, a»4 are made to smart for
^icel that 1*^ actions th^t ^e .pf np significance or conser
?^'w?auence. The ftwHy ^ lying, and what ia some-
prfsied in thjpg pf ^ IpwoT foTin, stubbomiiesa, s«5m to be
children. ^^^^ ^^^ ought* iu evcry i^tance, to b^ checked
both in theif inf^cy and prpgress, they being vices
which are apt tp grow vf with them ; mdf, after the
tpn^ii? has contracted % hf^bit of lying, it 13 scarce to
bi^ imiigined how impossible, ahoost, it is to draw it
0¥t of ^e ^se tra<;k -» frqip wh^l^ce it opines to pasa,
.that we H9 some, who are otherwise very honest
inen, not on^ subject, but mere sjaves to this vice.
X hftve an ho?ie«t lad to my t^yk^r, who I ne^r
'h€»rd. iqpie^k t^^uth) not even when it oaght have been
tP h^. advtntqge. If falsehood had^ like truth, only
<»ie free, we should be upon better, tearms ; for we
shjQuld then tak^ the ooj^itia^y pf what the Uar should
say for cei*tain truth ; but the reverse c^ tr^iih has a
J^undred thousand form^, and is 9, i^eld without limits.
The Pytnagpreafts make good to be certain wd finito,
iV}d9v4» in^te 2^nd un^ert^ii^i there are a thou-
sand w«ys tp nvlss^ Uie wliite) aj»d only one to hit it.
jFor my pwn p*rt, I ani not sjm?e th4t I could pre-
yail with i»y ^pnsciepce to sg<;i|re myself from mani*
OF J^URfC f9
fisst' and extKmfe dai^r by ah ini|nideBt and sokiaa
Ue« One of the ancient fathers said, ^^ That ^.hadr
^^better be iQ eompanj with a d<i(f that we Jmov^
^^ than with a. man whose knguage we da not under-'
^^ stand*" Ut cx^ternfu^ mn atiena ^iV hominis vicc.K
So that tvw persons of different natioafci are not men.
widi ri^asrditQ'eaob other ^ oc, as a^ &reigner, to ono
who underaianda nofr^hat he says, cannot be said ta
supply the place of a masu And bow mne^ leas so^
Ciable ia £Uae speaking than silence ?
. King Francia I^ boasted) that be noBfiktssed Frah« An ambas-
tiado Tavema,. ambassador of Francis SSoxz^ duke^ught in
of Mikiiy a man <^grMt fame for his eloquence, by^ i>« V
this means. T^e ambassador had been dispatched ^^'"'"'
ta excuse his master to' the king for an action of great
consequence, ii^ch was this ; the king, in order td
mabttain some correspondence still in Italy, out of
which he had been lately diiven, and partipularly in
the ducby of Miian,, had thou^t fit to have a gen^
tlemariy on his behaif, to reside oenslBntly near tha
diuke; an ambassador in effect, but in appearance as
a private man^ who i»etended to reside tWe fi>r hid
own afl&iA. The reason of this was, that the duke^
who depended mack more upon the emperor (at
a time e^eoiaUy when he was treating of a niar«
riage with hisniece, daughter to the Idng of Denmark,^
and since dowager of l^^nrain), could not be known
to have*, any comspondence or intelhgeoce with usr^i
without hdurting his interest considerably* For this
conuQissiona Miknesegentleman wasthou^ proper^
viz. one MerveiUe, who was an equerry to the lung^
Tins person, being dispatched with private creden-
tials, and the instructions of ambassador, besides
other lettesrs of recommendation to the duke, in
&vour of His own private concerns, for a. mask and
^ This i^ a psitage 9vk of Pliny» which Moi»taigne hee imitelc*d " .' , .\
(o ftdapl it to his aentiment. It rau in Pliny^ Vt ^enms aliem
pene mm sit hominis vice^ Nat, Hist. litf. vU. cap, 1. So that two
persons of diiierent countries are not scarce men with regard to one
anothei*
4£l OF LIARS.
$L cloak, he staid so long at the duke's court, that
the emperor took umbrage at it; which was the oe«
casion, as we suppose, of what followed after, viz.
that under pretence of a murder by him committed,
his trial was dispatched> in two days, and his hekd
struck off in the dead of the night* The king ap«
plying to all the princes of Christendom, and even
to the duke himself, to demand satis&etion, Tavema
^me to the court of France with a long counterfeit
story, had his audience at the morniDg-cbuncil,
where, ^r the support of his cause, he made a plau-
sible harangue, concluding, that his master had
never looked upon this Merveilte for any other than
a private gentleman, and his own subject, who came
to Milan only about his own affiurs, and had never
lived there in any other character; absolutely deny<«
ing he had ever heard that he was one of the king's
houshold, or so iftuch as known to his majesty, so
far was he from taking him for an ambassador. The
king, in his turn, urging several objections and ques-
tions to him, and sifting him every way, gravelled
him at last, in the circumstance of the execution
beine performed in the night, as it were by stealth. ^
To this the poor man, being confounded, made an-
swer, in order to show his complaisance. That, out
of respect to his majesty, the duke would have been
very sorry that such an execution should have been
)erfarined in the day-time. Any one may imagine
low he was reprimanded when he ca^e home, ibr
laving so grossly prevaricated with a prince of so nice
9. discernment as king Francis.
Anotbor Pppc Julius II. haviug sent an ambassidor to the
dor**ca!^ht king of England to animate him against king Francis,
in a mib- the amhassador, having had his audience, and the
Henry^ 1^^' ^^ hi^ answer observing the diffloulties that
yiii. kin^n^uld attend the making such preparations as Would
uJd? ^* be absolutely necessary to cope with so powerfu) a
kingy and mentioning some reasons, the amba&ador
♦ BeUay's ^leraoirs, lib. iv. fol. 153, &c. Edit, of Paris^ 157$^ .
OF REA0IKE8S OR SLOWNESS IS SPEECH. 4fl
absurdly replied,* That he himself had also con-
sidered them, and had indeed mentioned them to the
Pope* This speech, so different from his errand,
which was to push a war, ^ve the king of England
the first glimpse of a col^cture, which was after-
wards verified, that the said ambassador was in his
heart a friend to France ; of whidi the king of Eng-
land having advertised the pope, his estate was coq«»
:6scated, apd he had like to have suffered deaths
CHAPTER X.
Of Readitie9$ or Slowness in Speech.
One ne Jurent h tous toutes graces donnceri
J. HUS we see, as to the gift of eloquence, some
have a facility and readiness of speech, and that
which is termed a quick ddiveiy, so fluent, that they
are never at a pause; and othei^s there are^ slow of
speech, who never utter a sentence but what has
been laboured and premeditated.
As the diversions and exercises of the ladies are
so regulated, as to make the best display of their
greatest beauty, so in these two diiS^rent advantages
of eloquence, of which the preachers and lawyers of
our age seem to be the chief professors, if my opi-
nion was to be taken, I should think the slow, speaker iv Atm
would be more proper for the pulpit, and the other JJ^^^^J^ *
for the bar; because the preacher's junction allows prracfa«r.
* Erasmus, in a book of his called Lingua^ mentions this fact, as
9 thing that happened while he was in EiMjand* He says, that, being
detected in conversation ^ ith the French ambassador hy nicht, he
was committed to prison, all his estate confiscated, and that, if he had
fallen into th^ hands of Jnlius, he would scarce have escaped with
his life. But the consequence of this ^JT^ linkup was, that the
king, who, perhaps, by putting off the afmir, might have composed
the difference, hastened the war. Operum Erasmi, in Folio, printed
Sl I^yden; 170S, tom^ iv. col. 684,
4fi m mcADmEftft ot
Urn as muok time as he pleases to prepare himself;
and, besides, his is one oontinaea thread of dis-
The ready course, i^thottt intetmiisMon ; whereas, it is the ad->
•radv^ vocate*8 interest to enter the lists ex.tempore, and
^^' the unex{)eoted answers of the adverse party dirotr
him off his bias, sotiiat he is immediately forced to
strike into a new path. Yet, at the interview bei-
twixt pope Clement and king Francis, at Marseilles,
it happened quite contrary, that M. Poyet, % man
who had been bred up all his life to the bar, and
was in high repute, Ijeing commissioned to make the
harangue to the pope, and having so long studied it
before-hand, that, it is said, he brought it quite ready
with him from Paris j the pope^on the very day that
it was to be spoken, lest he should intend to say
something which might disgust the ambassadors of
the other princes that were about him, sent the king
a* topic which he thought fittest both for the time
and place,, but such atopic as was quite different
from that which Monsieur Poyet had taken so much
pains about ; so that the speech he had prepared re-
maned of no use, and he was forced, tiiat very in-
stant, to set about ano^er; but, finding himself
incapable of forming it, the cardinid de Bellay wa^
constrained to take that chatge upon him. ' The
pleader's province is more difficult than that of the
preacher ; and yet, in my opkiion, we find more
passable pleaders than preachers, at leaait in* ("ranee*
It' seems that it is the nature of wit to operate
speedily, and on a sudden ; whereas the operation of
judgment is deliberate and slow* But it is as strange
lor a man to be totally silent for want of lei.'Oire to
prepare his speech, as it is foranother to speak never
the better though he had leisure. ' ;
Severn It is Said of Severus Cassius,* that he spoke. hCst
SokTbest^thout having thought of tlic subject beforehand ;
without that he was more indebted to bis fbrtime than to his
. ♦■ Sei^eca's Epitome Controversiarum. Prefi lib. iiL.p..274f* Sdiliott
at GenWa^ anno 1626. ... •
^LaWNSSS IK WEEClO. 41
^gence ; tbflit he spoke best when he. was angered; pi^pm-
tJid that his adversaries wer^ aitaid to provoke him, ^^
lest his indignation should give a double edge to his
ekx][uence. I ^now by experience, that sort of
geiuus whiph is 90 aYer$^ tQ intense and p^in&l pre«
meditation, if it does not operate briskly and freely,
performs nothing to the purpose. We say of some
works, that they stink of oil, and the lamp, by reason
of a certain harshness and roughness, from the labour
with which they were composed. But besides this,
the solicitude of perfbmiing well, and the effort of
the mind too far strained, and too intent upon its
undertaking, break the chain of thought, and hinder
its progress, as is the case of water, which, being
pressed by its force and quantity, hardly passes out
of the neck of a fiill bottle, when just opened. In
that sort of genius of which I have been speaking,
there is this also observable, that it does not like to be
disordered and stimulated with such strong passion;
as the wrath of Cassius (for such an impulse would
.Jbe too rough), it likes not to be shocked, but soli-
cited ; and had rather be warmed and roused by
sudden and accidental occasions that are foreign to
the point. If it be lefl to itself, it only flags and lan-
guisnes ; agitation gives it grace and vigour, I do
not like to be master of myself, and am more under
the dominion of chance. Occasion, company, and
even the rising and falling of my voice, extract more
from my imagination, than I can find in it when I
sound it and speculate by myself. Consequently, I
speaJc better tnan I write, if either was to be pre-
ierred, where neither is worth any thing. This also
befalls me, that I am absent from myself, and that
chance brings me to myself, more than any inspec-
tiofi into mv ''own. judgment. I shall throw out a
witticism, wncn I write, which I may think very fine
and delicate, others dull and lifeless ; but, to speak
freely, every one talks thus of himself according to
his talent. For my part, I am frequently so be-
wild^red^ ^at I I^qw not. ^vhat I am about to 9ay,
♦♦ O* PUOONOSTICATIOXS.
and a stranger finds it out before me. Were I to
make a razure as oil as this befalls me, I should
have nothing at all to say ; but chance will at an-
other time shew it to me, as plain as the sun at
noon-day, and malce me wonder how I came to hesi*
tate.
CHAPTER XL
Of Prognostications.
jtilS for oracles, it is certain tliat they began to lose
their credit long before the birth of Jesus Christ ;
for we read tliat Cicero was at a loss to know the
reason of it, by his saying, " How comes it to pass
" that the oracles at Delphos are not only now silent,
*' but have been so for a good while, insomuch that
*' nothing is more despised ?'*• But as to the other
prognostics that were derived from the anatomy of
the beasts at the sacrifices, to which Plato, in some
'measure, ascribes the natural constitution of the in-
testines of these beasts ; as to the cluttering motion
of chickens with their feet, the flying of birds :
(Aves (jiiasdam^ renim augurandarum causa natas
esse putamus.f L e. We think some sort of birds be
created purposely for the sake of augury.) Claps of
thunder, the wmding of rivers, (Malta cernunt
araspices ; mitlta augures provident ; multa oraculis
declarantur ; tnalta vaticinationibus ; multa somniis ;
multa portent is ;t i.e. Soothsayers and augurs con-^
jecture and foresee rnany things, and many things
are foretold in oracles, divination, dreams, and pro-
digies.) And as to others of the like nature, upoq
which the ancients grounded most of their undertak-
ings, whether public or private, our religion has to-
• Cic. de DJvinatione, lib. ii. cap. 52.
t Cic. de Naturii De^ruui, U\>, ii. cpp, 64. % Ibid. cap. 65.
OF ^ROGNOStlCATtONS. *1
tally abc^hed them; aldiough ' there yet remain
among us some methods of divination from the stars,
JTom spirits, the forms of human bodies, from dreams^
and the like ; a notable instance of the wild curiosity
of our nature in amusing itself to anticipate futurity^
as if it had not enough to do, to digest the things
present.
— CiiT hanc tihif rector Olj/mpii
Solicitis visum mortaHhis addere curami
Noscuni veniuras ui dira per omnia eiades f
Bit sulitum (piodcunque parasy sit ccpcafuttiri
Mens koniinumjatf, liceat sperare timenti.^ i. e-
Why, sov'iieigfn ruler of Olympus, why.
To nnman breasts, which heave the ankiotis sigh,
Add*st than this care, that rnen should be so wi^
To know, by omens, future miseries ?
Unlook'd for send the ills thou hast designed)
Liet human eyen to future fate be blind,
That hope, amidst our fears, some place may findi
Jt^e utile quidcm est scire quid futttrum sit : wiserum
est enim^ nihil proficient em angi.\ i. e. It is of no
avail to know what is to come to pass ; and it is a
miserable thing to be tormented for^ nodiing. Yet
divination is of much less authority in our days-
Wherefore, I think Francis marquis de Saluzzo a
Very notable instance, who, being a lieutenant-gene-
ral in the ahny of king Francis, beyond the moun-
tains, a prodigious favouiite at our court, and obliged
to the kinjj for the said marquisate, which liis brother
had forfeited ; and who withal had no occasion to
change his party, his own affection opposing any
such step, suffered himself to be so tcrrilied (as was
confidently affirmed) with the favourable prognosti-
cations that were universally J^pread abroad to the
advantage of tlic emperor, Charles V. and to our
disadvantage (even in Italy, where these idle pro-
* Lucau. lib. iL vcr. 4^ 5^6^ 14, 15.
f Cic« de Nat. Deor« lib. uu €ap.> 6.
W JPftO6)n>STICAT|01l&
phecies had gained duch credit^ that at Rome a great
sum of money was staked on the supposition of our
ruin)» that, having often condoled Witn his particular
fiienda for the misfortunes which he saw must un-
avoidably fall upon the crown of France, and the
friends he had there, he revolted, in 15S6, and
changed sides ; but to his great loss, whatsoever
constellation presided at time. For he behaved in
this affair like a man agitated with divers passions ;
having both towns and forces at his command, the
enemy's army under Antonio de Leva close by him,
and we having no suspicion of his design, it was in
his powe-r to have almost entirely ruined us ; we did
not, however, lo^e a single man by his treachery,
neither kny town but Fossan, nor even that till after
a long dispute.
Prudensfuturi iemporis exifum
Caliginosa node premii Deus:
Ridetque si mqrialu uUra
ias irepidat.
'^"—-'iUe poiens sui
Ltstusque de^ety cut licet y in diem
Dixisse, vixi:' eras vel atra
JTuhe Polum pater ocQupcUo,
Vel sole pure*
Lcetus m prcesens anirnusy quod ultra esi
Oderit €urare,\ i. c.
The God of wisdom has in shades of night
Futitre events conceal'd from hiiman sight ;
And smiles with pity at the mortal race,
' Trembling for what may never come to pasif^
He*s master of hunself alone.
He lives that makes each day his own j
bis life is happy, who con say,
When night comes^ Fve lived well to^y;
And for to-morrow takes no care,
Whether the day prove foul or fair.
The man that's clieerful in h&present sMI^
. Is pever anxious for his future fate*
. * Hpr. Ode xxix. Kb. iiL rer« 2S*
. t Ibid* Ode xyl. lib. ii^ ver. <25, 2i^.
OF FEOGKOSTICATIONS^ 4%
And they who put axOiltrafy sense on this passai^
misunderstand It* .
Much more wisely said Pacuvius,
Nam tsiis qtd Imjguam avium inteUigunty
— Plmque eatfUienojecare saphmi, qmm e36 suo,
'^Magis OMdiefubimy qadmauscultandum censeo. i. e.
As for such who understand the language of birdsj
and know more by the liver of an animal than by
their own reason, I think it is better to give them a
hearing than credit.
The so much celebrated art of divination among ""1*^2^
the Tuscans, had its rise thus : a ploughman, forcing ^^a
his share deep into the earth, turned up the demi- ^^^^'^^
god Tage^J^ who had the visage of a child, but the
wisdom of an old man. Every body flocked to him ;
and his sayings, and his system, containing the prin-
triples of this aft, and the means of attaimng it, was
compiled, and preserved for many ages. As its rise,
* What Montaigne says here, seems at first obscure, and it is not
easy to discover its eonnection with what goes before. But this yet'
plexky proceeds dhiefly ftom the bold and unusual transposition
Uriqcli lie kas made of the words au cantraire^ which oi^ht to be jtlaced
thuB« au conirfdre^ ceux qui crovevt ce mot le croifent h tort ; u e. On
the contrary, they who believe this passage are in the wrong. It has
been qmte mistaken in Mr. Cotton's £n^ish Translation of Mon-
taigne^ however just and elegant it may be elsewhere ; for, hitherto^
Monfea^ne had been condemning the prognostics o^ futurity, drawft
from several tokens, founded merely on human fancy ; ana now he
declares against that principle of the stoics, quoted by Cicero de
Divinatione, lib. iiL ciqp. 6. viz. '^ If there is such a thmf ail divina-
** tion, there era gods % and if there are goda^ there is di:^iikatioiu"
I have been more particular in my preface, to shew the reason of
that incoherence for which Montaiene's style is so much blamed. It
is certain that the connection of liis senthnents must'needs often
escape the diseemment of an inattentive reader ; but I hope tKat I
have demonstrated, diat, however common, the connection is ^eij
-renL
f PaCQvius apud Cic. de Divinatione, l^b. L c. 57.
j: Cicd^Dnrinatione, Uh.ii. cap. 23.
Jndigeiut dixere Tagen^ ^i primus Etrtiscam
Edcadt gmtem cams aperirejuturos. Ovid. Metara. lib. xv«
i. e. He that first taueht the Tuscans the knowledge of futurity
was by the natives called Tages. i
4$ 01^ PftOG2«d8tt(;Al?t0^d4
60 wad its progi*ess. I should choose rather to r^*
late ray affiiirs by the turn of a die, than by such
dreams; and, indeed, in all repubUcs, a good share
of authority has ever been left to chance. Plato, in
that system of government which he has formed out
of his own head, ascribes the decision of several im-
portant things to chance; and amongst the rest,
Would have marriages of the better* sort of people
be appointed by lot^ and to such choice by chance
he gives so great a sanction, as to order the children
bom of such marriage to be brought up in the coun-
try, and that those of mean parentage should be
turned out of it: nevertheless, that if any one, so
banished, should, as it grew up, happen to give any
hopes of being eminently good, it might be recalled^
and those that were kept at home, who give little ex-
pectation of their youth, were as Uable to be banished^
I see some that pore and comment on tlieir almanacs,
producing their authority for occurrences, who after
all must needs stumble upon some truth in a number
of lies. Quis est enim qui totum diemjaculam mn all-
quando conlinetff u e. Who is there that shoots at
ft mark all day, will not hit it sometimes ? I do not
think the better of them for some accidental hits.
There would be more certainty in it, if it Was settled
as a rule always to lie. Besides, nobodv keeps a re«>
gister of their misreckonings, because they are com-
taon and endless ; but, if they once guess right, their
divinations are cried up as rare, incredible, and pro-
digious* Diagoras, surnamed the Atheist, being in
* Viz. in his Republic, lib* v. where he reauires, that the chic& of
his commonwealth should so order it^ that the men of the greatest
excellence should be matched with the most excellent women;
and on the contrary, that the most contemptible men should be itiarw
ried to women of Uieir owh low character ; but that the thing khould
be decided by a sort of lottery, so artfully managed (»AJi^ ncytrttt
M(M^W) that the latter may blame Fortune for it, and not their go^
Vernors* But there is not one instance of choice made by chance«
and consequently Montaigne might ad well have dmitted to give Us
thin quotation.
t Cic. de Divioaiionci lib. ii« cap; 5&i
the temple Of Samoddra^e, yditte ht saw AemtaSf
vows ami pictures of those that had Escaped ^hip-^
Wrecks tfre person who shewed thetai, said to him^
/^ You i0^ho think that the gods have no concern for ,
^^ human thin^, what say you of so many persons
•* saved by their favour ?" " So it was," replied Dia-
goras, ^^ but here are ndt the pictures of those that
*^ were drowned, who wei*e much the greater num*-
** ber.** Cicero observes,* that of all the philosor
phers who acknowledged any deities, Xenopnanes of '
Colophon is the only one that endeavoured to eradl^^
eate all nlanner of divination. And it is not so much,
to be wondered, if we have seen some of our princes^
to their own cost, influenced by these chimeras^t jL
wish I I\ad with my own eyes seen those two wonder^
ful books, viz. that of Joachim, the Calabriim ab-
bot, IVhich foretold, all the future popes^ thdr nlimes
tad shapes | and that of the emperOr Leo, which
prophesied of the emperors And patriarchs of Chreece^^^
This I have been 'An eye-witness oi^ that, in public
bonfiisions, men, astonished at their fortune, have
abandoned their reason almost totally to superstition^,
by lookihff ttp to the starry heaven for the ancient
causes and prognostics of their &te, and have there*
in been so siuprisingly successful, in my time, as t<^
make me believe, that this study, being an amuse-
ment for men of penetration and Jeisure, those who
are inclined to this subtilty of explaining and unrid-
dling mysteries, would be capable of finding out what
they want to know in all wntings whatsoever. But,
above all, that which gives them the greatest scope,
is, the obscure^ ambiguous, and fiintastic part of
their prophetic jargra, to which their authors givo
no clear mterpretatioiu ta the end that posterity,
may make what application of it they pleade.
The D^mon of Socrates was, perhaps, a certain ^^^"^
impulse of the will, which obtruded itself on him^jfi^'oT
* Cic4 de Kat Deonim, fib> ISi cap* Vt*
-/. t' Cic4 de DiTm«.lib.,L cap* Si
VOL. I. E"
Socrates* iKTi^dut GOHfiditii^ his (fmx yodigixi&it FiMT in a. smtl
'^*°^°- so refined* as hisf was, and prepared by the coBstanV
exems^ of wisdom and viFtue^ it is ptbbabld, that
tibese hk^finations oflns, though rash and indigeste^
i9^re always in^ptatft, and ^iortky to be fbuowd^'
Every one finds in himfielf some image of such agi-
tttlionii^ of a prompt, .vehement, and ft)]>tuitou» opi^
nion^ It is my duty to allow fhem s<Mne awthovity,
who attribute so Ktfle to our prud^iee. And I my-
self have had some agitations^ weak in i^eason, buC
riolent in persuasion^ or in diseuasion^ (vftiich wasr
the commfon case with Socrates), by which I hav9
suffered myself to be canned ^way b» much to ngp
^wn advantage, that they might we& be suppoead) tMi
have something i»^ l9iem of divide inspiralioii*
B'
CHAITEEXIt
!
Of Comtcuicjf.
lY resolution and c^onstan^y it is not ih^lied thaie
In what we ought uot, a9 much as in us Kes, to seewe oui^-
•nd'l^fa-^^^^ fi»om the mischiel^ arid inconvenieneeB that
tion con- threaten us J nor, consequently, that we should m)#
•***' be afraidbf being surprised- by them : on thecontraffy,
all honest means of preserving ourselves fi'om hm-ms*
are net only ^owed of, but commendable. And>
^e businessr of constency. chiefly is, to sufier, with-
out fMnching, dirose inconveniences i^ainst whicfe
t^re is no remedy. At the 9am^ tiifte,' there isrna
motidn of the body, nor any gu£u:d in tiie handlings
. ofarmS) that we (Uisa^prOve of, if it serves to de&nd^
us from the stroke tli«t is aimed at us. Several verv*
warliKi^ itotions have, in th^r battles, fbui}j[l tlieir
chief advimtage in a retread, and done the ei^my>
more mischief by turning their backs to them than
their faces. Of which wajr of fighting the Turks re-
tain something to this day. Socrates, in Plato, ral*
•W COMTANCY* 51
licS taehes, who hdSA deSfied fbrtittide to be nofliifi^
more nor less than standing firm in rank to &ceih^
ettemj : •* What/' said he, ** would it be cowardice
** to beat them by giving gronnd ?'* At the same
time, he quoted Homer, where he commends ^Enea^
4br liis 'sicill in retreating. And because Ladies,
upon fresh consideration, owned this was the prac-
tice of fihe Scythians, and in general of aH cavalry,
lie urged ahottier 'proof from the instance of the in,-
fentry of the Lacedaemonians (a nation of all others
the most obstinate in maintaining their ground),
who, in the batde of Hatea, not being aWe to pene*-
trate the Persian {^alanx, thought fit to fell back;
that the enemy, supposing them i!ying, might break
and disunite their mrm body in. the pursuit, by which
means Ae Lacedaemomans obtained the victory. Ais
for the Scydiians, it is said, that when Darius srt oirt
on his expedition to subdue them, he sent tiftc^
proach the king with cowardice, for always retiring
before hhn,- and declining a battle ; to which Inda-
thyrsis (for that was his name) made answer, ** That
*' ne did so not for fear of him, or of any mao Kving^
** but that it was the way of marching in his country^
** where there were neither tilled iielcfc, nor town, nor
" house to defend, or of which the enemy could makA
** any advantage : but that if he had sudi a voraciouii
** appetite, let him only come and view tiieir ancient
** place of sepulture, and there be should havtj hii
^ benyfiil.*'*
Nevertheless, as to cannon which is levelled for a
mark, as the occasions of war oftep require, it is
shameftd to quit a post to avoid the threatened blow,
forasmuch as, by reason of the violence and velocity
of the shot, we account it inevitable ; and many a per-
son, by ducking the head, or holding up the hand,
has furnished matter for his comrades to laugh at.
Yet, in the expedition which thie emperor Charles
V. made agaihst us in Provence, the marquis dc
♦ Herodotus, 1*. it. p. 300, 301-
£2
fS OP comTMrcY#
Guast going to reconnoitre the city of Arles^ Md
.venturing to advance out of the shelter of a windmill,
by the favour of which he made his approach so near
the town as he had done, he was spied by the seig«>
neurs de Bonneval and the seneschal d' Agenois, as
they were walking^ on the Theatre des Aren^/ who
having shewed mm to Monsieur de ViUiers, com*
missary of the artillenr, he levelled a culverin at him
sio dexterousty, that had not the marquis,, upon see*
ing the matcn lighted, instantly pop{^d to one side,
he probably would have been shot in the body. In
like manner, some years before this, Lorenzo de Af e-
dicis^ duke of Urbino, father to the queen-mother of
^France, laying siege to Mondolpho, in those parts
called the Vicariate of Italy, seemff the gunner put
fire to a piece that pointed direct^ at mm, was so
fortunate as to duck down that moment, otherwise
the ball, which only grazed the top of his head, would
doubtless have hit him on the breast. To speak
truth, I do not think that these dodging are made
with judgment; for how is any man living able to
judge ofhigh or low aim on so sudden an occasion I
and it Is much more natural to think, that fortune
iavoured their fear, and that the same motion, at an«
other tim^ might as well put a person into danger, as
free him ^om iL For my own part, I cannot for*
bear starting when the noise of a gun thunders in my
ears on a sudden, and in a place where I have no rea«
son to expect it, which I have also observed in othec
fiiu»s4w inen of stouter hearts than mine. Neither do the
stoics mean that the^oul of their philosopher should
blancabte
for^ieid. be proof against the first surprise, oy visions and fan
iilttlu^ cies ; and they tiiink that it is but natural for him to
tMiis of \)Q shocked by the terrible rattle of thunder^ or the
lionT^ fall of sp^, ruin, for mstanGe, ^ even so as to turn
pale^ or becbtivulsed (as well as in the other pas-
sions). This the stoics, I say, dispense with in tneir
wise man, provided his judgment remains swmd ^
* The theatre for the public shews of ridbigr §mclng» &€^
OF THE INTERVIEW OP FRIKCES. 59
Entire. A fright is the same thing to hini who is not*
a philosopher, in the first moment of it, but quite
jmother case in the second ; for, in such a one, the
impression of the passions does not remain supei^-
cial only, but penetrates even to the seat *of his rea-*
son, so as to infect and corrupt it. According to
his passions he judges and confbrms his conduct. But
in ti)is verse you may see the state of the wise stoic
elegantly ana plainly expressed :
Mensimmotammet, lacrymi9 vdvuntur kuaufs.* ' ^
The mind doth fix'd lemaia.
While tears are shed in vaiiu
The peripatetic philosopher is not exempt from'
the perturbations pf the mind« but he keeps thtto'
within bounds^
CHAPTER Xni.
Of the Ceremony at the Interviav ofPrincet^
Jl here is no subject so fHvolous, that does not TheieiKct
merit a place in this rhapsody. According to our J^Sw*
common rules of civility, it would be unpohte beha-^tiiiced t«
viour to an equal, and much more to a superior, to ^iVr-t ^
feil of being at home,^ when he has ^ven you notice ?J^'***** '
that he wiU come to pay you a visit. Way, queen *^.
Margaret of Navarre earned the point farther, by
saying, that it is uncivil in a gentleman to go out of
his house, as is a common practice, to meet any one
coming to see him, be he ever so great a man ; and
^at it IS more respectful and civil to stapr at ^ome to
receive him, were it only for Ifear of missing him by
the way ; and that it is enough to accompany him!
to his apartment. For my part, who am^ for as^
little ceremony as possible in my own house> I oflexr
* Yirg. IBgu»L. lib. h^ vera4i9L
fei|^ both tbeise vain ofiices. J£ my one be o&
ttoded^ what would you have me (Jo ? It is better
to o&^ him once^ than mjrself every day ; for it
ippould be a perpetual sbvery. To. vrmL end do we
avoid the servile attendance of courts, if we bring
the same home to our ow;n cottages? , It is also a*
eopmon rule in all assembliesy ttiat those of less
(yaality shpuld b^ the first at the place of assignation,
because to be waited on, is an honour^ to whicii
those pf the. greatest distinction have the best title,
^r^*^ NeveiUketess, at the interview betwixt pope
rtXIn- Clement VII. and king Francis, at MafsfeiBes, in
* riw '^ ^ 1533, the king, after he had given order fbr the
^^ "^^ ucilisaiy pieparatiohs, went iMt of town, and gitve
the.fppe twD fit tdftree days respite fer Im entry and
refreshment, before he came to him. , In likie man^
ner also, at the interview betwixt the same pope and
the emperor Charles V« at Bol^^a, the latter end of
the year 1532, the emperor gave leave to the pope to
be there first, and then went tliither himself It is^
they say, a commtm ceremony at the conferences of
such princes^ that the greatest should beat the place
appointed before the others, nay before him in whose
tarxitories they are to meet ^ and the reascm is, ba-
cause, it should seem proper fbr the inferiors to seek
ouij-and apply to the greater, and not he to them.
rp&mdt . Not every country only, but every citjr, and e^ea
ciJStt/fe eveiy profession, has a particular form of civility. I
biameaMe. was cpcfully enough ediicated when a cliild, have
lived in too good company tb be ig^<H*ant of the
eef emonial laws of oiu: French nation, and am able
ta train tup others in the same knowledge. I love
qlso to follow them^ but not so servilely as to be en-
j|Iaved to them all iny life-time. ' They have some
painful formalities, the omission of which, provided
it be di^cretipnal, .apd not through mistake, is no.
l)freach of decorum. X have, oilen seen people
rude hy being over ciiil, and troublesomQ in tlieir
courtesy, .
USELESS DEFttffOfi ^0P A iPLACfi PUNISHABLE. £&
rAs^fbr^idle vest,to1m&m haw to^h^hsLve^weiXi as 4tTheadvui.
very vsefiil soiencew Like )£^acefoln6sa and bMutj^ ^^.
it oraates a;likk|^ ^t tlie very begmoinig of an ao^utedcivi-
i)iiaiiiti»ide md ^miiiBnty^ aiid, Iby HKmsdq^eiio&'^^^*
iG|iea6 SL'Aoer for ^urinsteuctioi^, l)y the esiaxogie ^
ioikBt^y ^Oi^^er difli^lsfyaqg and ^odttcuig ourselv^
ferfarvodelt if it has ai)j)r thii|g ^n it that is^tmo
live^^aofl^t to be'cfiknowBieMed.
'^■^■Mi'M
CHAPTER XrV.
Wkfit ike obstmme D^riee of uiHk(t that is mttn
/ ilea^oH to he defended^ deserves to be puakhsdi
V AIXXJil lisM its bounds^ as weU as other virtti^ Vaioanind
whioh once ti^nsgre^ed, the next *tep is wto-^he*^""""*
teni*(>rie9 <£ vice ^ so that^ unless a man be ^^
p^rfect.in its limits, which are indeed mi easily to he
dtato^gmabed, 'such, ill-^iii^ed valour leads to rash*
nesa^iobstuiacy, imd^y.
. Rrcdn dsds coHsikliFataon is derived the cwstoai^ in wby too
time 'Cif war, of pitnishii^, Bv^i with deaths suah as^^^°^^^^
are obstinate tn defradiisga place ¥4nqh, by the>rules & place u
pf trai, is not tamible : eke inen ^w^oidd be so eonfi- ^"^^^^^^
d^Ati, up^^n the hopes of :ii]^uBi<|r, that, e^^i^ -ben-
iwtat would st(^ m ^ne^, llie ^onsMlede Mont*
aoreiK^^) nt the aieg^ "of Pavia» having .oiders to pass
the Tesin, and to take up liis quarters in the suburb
of St. Antony, being hindered from doing so by a
tower at the end of the bridge, which was so obsti-
nate as to stand a.batteiy, hie hanged up every man
he found in it. Aftd a|^n,id[);^t#ards, when lie ac-
companied the dauphin in his, expedition beyond the
Alps, and tdok ^t titfstlb of Villan* by ^torm, all
yAm\xL it were put to the sword i^y tiie '^nri^ell
soldiers^ ^xoept the ^^aptain and the ensign, who^ he
Caused to be trossedujpfi>r<he same reason. laKke
«ff TOT PlTklSHBfEWf
manner the captain Martina du Bellajr, then goverw
nor of Turin, m the same country, treated the cap^
tain de St. Bony, the rest of hi^ men being cut M
pieces at the taking of the place. Btit fbrasmudi
as the strength or weakness of a place is always
Judged of by the number and weignt of the forces
that attack it (for a man might reasonably enough
despise two culverins, that would be mad if he stood
the battery of thirty cannon,) taking also into the
account the power of the prince who is master of the
field, his reputation, and the respect due to him, it is
to be foared, the bdance will inoline a little on that
side ; and fit)m hence it happens that such princes
have so great an opinion of themselves ana their
thesfuxes; that thtuKing it unreasonable that anj^
place should presume to make head against them^
they put all to the sword that resist them, as long as
their fortune continues, as we see by the proud and
kau^;hty forms of summoning towns, and denouncing
war, savouring so much of barbarian insolence in use
among the oriental princes, imd their successors, to
this day. ^ And in that corn w which the Portuguese
lopped off from the Indies, they found some domi**
hions in 'which it was an universal and inviokbfe law,
that no enemy who was defoated by the Idng in peiC
son, or by his lieutenant or representative, should be
entitled either to a ransom or mercy. So that^
above all things, it is absolutely necessary for every
tnan to take care lest he fall into the ^^ands of a judge
^hq is a victorious enmy, and imned for executioii^
CHAPTER XV,
Of the Punishment of Cowardice^
Bow T
cowardict X ONCE heard of a prince, a very great warrior,
p^oUM^^^ <u3serted, that a soldier ouglit not to be put to
m soldier, death b<ecause he had a faint heart ; and that he said
Cr COWAKDIOS. JT
tlib at table, upoo bang told the story of the pro-
ceedings agaamt Mcmsieur de Vervins^ and of his be«
ing sentenced to death for havii^ given up Boulogne.
Indeed, it is reasonable that a man sho«d make a
great diflerence betwixt finilts which proceed fipm
our weakness, and those that are abiolutely owin^ to
our malice ; £>r in the latter we act wilfully against
the rules of that reawn whi<^ nature has planted in
us ; and in the former it s^ems that we may appeal
for our vindication to that same nature, fi»r having
left us in such a state oi imperfoction and pusillam*
mity. insomuch, tiiat it has been thought by many^
we are not blameable for aov thing but what we com--
mit agaiilst the light of our conscience ; and it is
partly upon tiiis rule that those ground their opinion,
who disapproved the inflictii^g. capital punishments
upon heretics and infidels } and on this also is partly
founded their opinion, who hold that an advocate
and a judge are not accountabljd for having &iled in
their commissions through i^orance.
• Now, as to cowardice, it is certain that the most The cmk
usual my of correcting it is by disgrace and igno*"3IU!It«e
miny. It ia supposed uiat this rule was first prac-> cowafdiccw-
tised by the legislator Charondas ; and that b^ire
his time, those that fled irom battle were, by the hiwa
of Greece, punished with death :* whereas he or-
dained, that they should only be exposed three days
together, in the midst of a public square, dressed m
woman's, apparel, hoping wat they might still be«
come useful, when this shame had roused their
courage; choosing rather, as TertulUan says, Sujfun^
dere malis hominis Mhguinem quam effunderc i\ i. e.
rather to raise the blood of a man in his cheeks,
than to draw it out of his veins. It seems also, that
heretofore those who SLeA were, by the Roman laws^
4 Dibdorus of Sicily, lib.xiL cap. 4w
t Tertullian in Apologet. p. 58S, torn. iL edit, at Pkuris, 156&
In this place Tertullian speaks of a most severe law against debtors,
whidi was annulled by die emperoc Sererus ; who, instead of pitlliBff
|iieit|tade((|ls ordm^tbeire&ctolob^seitM^ andpoUL.
SB ^9Muamm^
)pratiD defcth: ^ Attiniiftiv Marorilmiis Myft,* tlit
tbe emperor Julum coodemned fcfen of his Mldm»^
who mi awmy in tiie action widi tiie X^UMhititty tobe
bro^e, and then, aocoidiBg to the ancient laws, to bt
put to deadu Yet, at aodther time, bt aenteboed
othet8,t for a liite £iuh, oniy to pass tfadir time
inong the (Kiaoners and faiggage. The pisnisfamenf
of the Roman soldiers, wfaoied fiom thie battb of
Cannc, and of thoK, in the teme war, ffbo mn away
with Cneos JFuivius, at his defeat, did not extend .to>
deodi. But it is to be feared that shame makes sndi
dehnauents despemte, ami renders • them not only
oool uiends, bat warm enemies.
How the . In 1523^ Monsieur de Franget, a heiitenant in
Slpi^e wu i^^s^ de Chatillon's company, being appointed go*
ponuhed vemor of Fontarabia, by tne marshal de Chabannes^
M>«aniice.iQ the room of Mmisieiiir de Lude, surrendered it
to the Spaniards, for which he was degraded frmn
die rank of nobility, and both he and Ins posterity
declared plebeians, taxable for ever, and incapable
of bearing arms ; which severe sentraice was exe^
Guted at L^cms. In \SS6^ all the gendemen who
were in Guise, suffered the like punishment, when
the ooimt de Nassau entered that town, and others
have been treated in the same manner since, for the
like offence. Neverthdbess, in an instance of such
gross and palpaUe igmnance or cowardice as ex-»
ceeds all common cases, it is but reason to take it for
a sufficient proof of treaeheiy and nuiiice, and ta
punidi it as such.
CHAPTJIRXVL.
A Passage of some Ambassadors.
A pruilent T
cnitom Ob- J N my travcls, I make it toy practice to put those I
Monoid, discourse with upon the subjects they best under-
**lLib, xxiy» cap. 4» of the Lyons edit* in 1600* t Lib* xxt. cqp. U
80M» AaiBASSADQitS. 59
^And, tliat I mny team Mmethinf irom liietr infornm^^
tion, tlian wHich no school in the world can affijrd ay
better method of improvement: J
Basil al nochiero ragimar de venti,
. M bifoko de i tori, e l^sue pi^ghe
Conifl guerrier, cont?l pastor gli armentu^ ''
Navita de venlis, de tauris narrat arator,
Emernorat miles vtdnera, pastor ovis.
The pilot best of winds does talk,
Th^ peasant of his cattle ;
Tlie shepherd of his fleecy flock ;
The soldier of his battle.
J*or it commonly happens, on the contrary, tliat peo-
jple choose to be dealing in other men's business rather
than their own, as thinking it the gain of so mucli
new reputation ; witness the jeer that Periander re-
vived nrom Archidamus> viz. " That he abandoned
*^ the character of an able physician, to gain that of
^* a sorry poet/' Do but observe what a deal of
|>ainB Caesar takes to let us know his invention in
building bridges, or constructing macliines for war,
and how concise he is when he comes to speak of the
duties of his profession, valour, and military conduct.
Hi» exploits prove him a very excellent commander ;
but he desired also to be known for as good an en-
gineer, an art in some measure foreign to his charac-
ter, Dionysius the elder was a very great general,
as weU became his fortune, but he stu£ed cmefly to
recommend himself by poetry, for which however he
had no talent. A gentleman of the long robe being
brought some days ago to a study, which was fur*
nished with all sorts of books, both of his own and
all other faculties, took no occasion to entertain
himself with anv of ttiem, but began very abruptly
and magisterially to descant upon a barricado over^
against the stuay, which a hundred captains and
common soldiers see every day without taking any
* These' Italian yerses of Ariosto are a perfect imitation df the
di^ttch in Plropertiot, fyhichlbUairt it| libb u. degs i v. 43, 44^
CO A PASSAGE OF *
notice, or affecting to appear intelligent on tte
subject:
Optat ephippia Ivs pnger, opM arare calalbis.^ u ۥ
Tiie lazy ox would saddle have and fatt.
The steed a yoke, neither for either fit.
This is the way for a man never to do any thing con*
siderable} so that he must always endeavour to leave
the architect, the painter, the snoemaker, and everjr
other mechanic to his own trade,
or what To this purpose, in reading history, which is a
|j*?,"7r^^^^^i'^jcct equally well adapted to every person, I have
iiiow the been ii3ed to consider what kind of men are th^
S»'wrkc"r/^'riters. If they make no other profession tlian that
of literature, tneir style and language is what I
chiefly attend to; if tney are physicians, I am th^
more ready to credit them in what they tell us of the
air, the health and constitution of princes, of wounds
. and diseases ; if lawyers, we are by them to be guided
in the controversies of Meum and Tuuvu the nature
of the laws, and qivil government, and the like; if
diAines, in church ai^^ ecclesiastical ceixsures, dis^
pensations, and marriages; if courtiers, in manners
and ceremonies; if soldiers, the things that belong
to their duty, and especiially ii\ the narratives they
give of actions wherein they have been personally
present; and if a^ibassadors, we are to observe theu^
negotiations, intel%ences and practices, and tlie
manner of conducting them. This is the reason why
(though perhaps I should have lightly passed it over
in another, without insisting on it) 1 paused, and
maturely considered a passage in the history writ by
M. de Langey, a man of very great understanding
in things of that nature, which was his account o^
the remonstrances that w^re made by the emperor
Charles V. at the consistory of Rome, m the presence
of the bishop of Ma9on and Monsiieur de Velley, our
ambassadors, wherein he mixed several invectivest
against our nation; and amongst others, said, ^^ Thaj^
^ilopace, ep. xiv. yb.i^•▼er^49^ -
ITOMtS AMBAllSAbOfiSA U0|
^ If his officers and soldiers were not bett^ to be
^^ trusted, and had not more skill in the art of war^
^ than those of the king, he would go that moment
^^ to the king with a rope about his neck, and sue to
^* him for mercy»'* It really seems as if the emperor
had no better opinion of our soldiery^ because he
happened afterwards, twice or thrice in his life, to
say the very same things and he also challenged the
king to iignt him in his shirt with sword and dagger^
in a boat. Monsieur de Langey, proceeding in his
flistory, adds, that the said ambassadors in their des« wtirther «
Jatches to the king> concealed the greatest part from l^^^^
im^ and particularly the two last passages. Now I don ought
wondeir how any ambassador can excuse himself fov^^^y^m^^
not giving his master the due information of things ff»j|« >>««>
of such consequence, coming from such a person, andaffai)!^^"
spoke in so ereat an assembly. I should rather con-^
ceive it had been the servant's duty faithfully to have
represented things in their true light, as they hap
gened, to the end that the sovereign might be at
berty to order, judge, and dispose of matters as he
pleased: for the disguising or concealing the truth
from him, lest he should take it in a wrong sense,
and be incited to imprudent measures, should seem,
methinks, rather to belong to him who gives law,
than to him who receives it; to him wno is the
guardian and master of the school, and not to him
who ought to look upon himself as inferior, not only
in authority, but in prudence and good counsel. Be
this as it will, I should not like to be served so in^
my little sphere.
Mankind are so much disposed to reject tlie con-^otoio^
trol of authority, that no advantage which a supe-to^^',Jj^^
rior derives from those who serve nim, ought to berior^n
so dear to him as their sincere and cordial obediencCi pbediml^
To obey him from discretion, and not from subjec- Jj^j^^^'°V
tion,* is to iiflure the office of command. P. Crassus,
* I find m Bariieyrac's lidtea Upon Puffendorf, that this thdught"
if takeo fioum Aalva QeUiiu, lib. L cap. IS.
A PASSACK or SOME AUBAMABOM^
lAiem the Romans rMkoned-hapjfiyiii five remects,*
having, while he was consul ih Asiaj ordered an en^
gineer of Greece to bring him the biggeftt of two
masta of ships that he had seen srt Athcais, for a cer-
tain battering ^igine which he proposed to mak^
with it, the engineer, pf esumiog upoB his own dis-
cretion, thought fit to make a different dioice, and
carried him the least of the two masts, which, ac-
cording to the rules of art, was abo the most conve-
nient; Crassus, having patiently heard his reasons,
caused him to be very heartily scourged, thereby
preferring correction to the pront he might have re^
ceived from the work. Such strict obedience, bow-
ever, is, perhaps, due only to conunands that are
precise and peremptory, llie iunction of as ambas*
aador is not so limited, but, in many particulars, he
is left to the direction of his own judgment. Those
^o are invested with such a character are not bardy
the executioners of their sovereign's wiQ and {Mea-
sure, but by their advice they form and model it;
and I have, in my time, known persons in authority
reproved, fbr having rather obeyed the express words
or the king's letters, than conformed to the exigency
of affidrs. Men of understanding do, even to this
day, condemn the practice of the kings of Persia, in
giving their lieutenants and agents such precise in-
structions, that, upon every minute difficulty, they
are obliged to have recourse to their orders; this de-
lay, in so vast an extent of dominion, being c^en
attended with great inconveniencie. And Crassus,
in writing to a man who professed and understooct
mechanics, and informing him of the purpose for
niiich he intended this mast, did he not seem to con-^
suit his opinion, and invite him to interpose hisc
judgment?
**' Tkotko was Yer^ rich, nosi noble, most eloquent, most flkiKbi
in the law, and the highest in the priesthood, or pontifex maximus^
AuUGelliiNoctesAtticsc, lib.i. cap. 13.
Of SB41C
CHAPTER Xyil.
Qf Fear.
I ^va^aoifiz'd, stiuck tpeeAksB* and mj hak
Qm, ^ nff9a my head did wildly fiU»e.
X AM. not a good naturalist (as they call itt) aiulTtiestniiij^
scarce know by what springs, fear operates in us; but*^** ^^'
this' I .koQW, that it is a strange passion^ and the
pkysiciana say, that there is not one of all the pas-
sioua that sooner dethrones our judgment ^-om it^
natural seat. I have actually seen a great many per*
sona whom fear has rendered frantic^ and it is certain,
that in persona the most composed, it creates terribl.^
confusion while the fit is upon them. To say nothing
•f tke vulg^, to whom it one while represents their
great grand^es^ risen out of their graves in their
shrouds, another while hobgoblinsv i^ctres, and
chdxneras; but even amongst the soldiers, who ought
to be. possessed with the least share of it, how often
have they mistaken a flock of hannless sl^ep for
armed squadrons, reeds and bulrushes for pikes and
lances, fHends for enemies, and the whib^ crpss of
France for the red one of Spain ? In 15^7, when
the duke of Bourbon took Kome, an ensi^, who
was upon guard at the Bourg St. Pierre, was sg
frightened at the very first alarm, that ha threw^lijim^
seu out of the breach with die colours in his ha^, *
and ran directly from. the. toAvn upon the enemy,
thinking aU the while tha^; he was proceeding towar4^
the interior fortifications of the city, till at lai^.
seeing the duke of Bourbon's men draw up to fiice^
the besieged, who they thought were making asaUy,.
■ * Virg. JEneid. lib. ii. ver. 774. ^ '
j* Montaigne shews, by this parenthesis, tliat the term naturalwt
-bill just adopted inta the French langua^. '
he found his mistake, and turning abotit riHxeated
through the same breach by which he had issu^
but not before he h^ advanced abdve a quarter of a
mile into the field against the besi^ers. It did not
&11 out quite so hi^ppily for captain Julius's ensigni
when St Pol was taken from us by the count de
Bures and M. de Reu, for he being so ver^ much
scared as to throw himself out of the town, colours
and all, through a port-hole, he was cut to pieces by
the besiegers. At the same siege, a gentleman was
Seized with such a fright, that he sunk down dead in
the breach without any wound.
Th« m»o. The like passion sometimes operates upon a whol^
prodtt^* multitude. In one of Germanicus's encounters with
hrfrmi. ijie Germans, two great parties were so intimidated,
that they fled different wa3rs, each running to the
place from which the other set out Sometimes it
adds wings to the heels, as it did to the two first,
and sometimes nails the feet to the ground, and fet-
ters them ; as we read of the emperor Theophilus,^
who, in a battle wherein he was defeated by the
Agaranes, was so astonished and stupified, that he
hiMl no power to fly, till Manuel, one of the chief
generals of his army, having jogged and shook hitti
so as to rouse him out of his trance, said to him,
*' Sir, if you will not follow me, I will kill you ; foi*
^* it is better that you should lose your life, than by
*^ being taken prisoner to lose your empire/'
feu it "When fear, is so violent as to deprive inen df all
l^^^^ sense, both of duly and honour, it makes them act
tifctofemtilili^ desperadoes. In the first ^r battle whieh the
ttftaiour. j^QjQimg ]^( against Hannibal, in the consulsbip of
Sempronius,t a body of at least 10,000 fybtj which
had tajlten fright, seeing no other escape for their
cowardice, forced their way through the bulk of the
enemy's army, which they penetrated with prodigiousr
ii)ry, and made a great slaughter of the Cartt»giir
nians, by that means piurhasing an ignominious
a Quintus Curtius, lib< ilL seeti 1 h f titi Lir. ]ib« xxw esfl. SSa
iligfat; as dearly aft the^ mi^t hav6 dohe a glorioub
victory.
The thing I am most afraid of is, fear, becatise itrtiutpentfi
is a passion which Supersedes and suspends all others. ][^o^|^
What affliction could be greater and more just than
that of Pompey's friends, who in his ship were spec^
tators of that horrid massacre f yet so it was, that
the fear of the Egyptian vessels,* which they saw
approaching, stifled that passion to such a d^ee,
that they did nothing but press the rowers to make
haste away, for fear of oeing surrounded by the
enemy, till they arrived at Tyre, when, being deli-
vered from their apprehension, tliey had leisure to
turn their thoughts to the loss they had so lately sus-
tained, and gave vent to those lamentations and tears
which the more prevalent passion had suspended :
Turn pavor iapieniiam amnem mVii ex ammo expectorat.-f i. e.
My mind, which fear had then oppress'd,
Was of all judgment dispossess'd* -
Such as have been soundly thrashed in some skirmish,
may, yet all bruised and bloody as they are, be
brought on again nekt day to the charge ; but those
who have once conceived a dread of the enemy, will
never be brought so much as to look him in the face.
They who are in fear every day of losing their estates^
of banjbhment, or of being made slaves, live in per-
petual' anguish, without appetite or rest; whertes
such as are natui^ly poor dares and exiles, oflen
live as happy as those in better condition. And so
many people who, not able to bear the terrors cf
fear, have hanged, drowned, and thrown themselves
from precipices, aSord a convincing proof that fear
is even more vexatious and insupportable than deatilt.
The Gteeka mention another kind of fear, pro-Pani<
ceeduig from no viable Cause, but the effecft of an^*^^'
impulse from heaven ; so that whole armies and na^
tions have been struck with it; ^cH ^bs that which
* Cicero Tu9C. QUegU lib. iii. cap. 27' , t Id* ^» br. cap. $!
VOL. I. F
J
69 man's HAPFDnESS NOT TO BE
liroug^t MO wondei&l a desolation nptm Cartilage,
where nothing was to be heard but outcnes suid
» ahrieks; the inhi^bitants ran Out of their houses as if
they were ready. to !&11 on their heads, aad they at-
tacKed, wounded, and killed^one another, as if thegr
bad been so many enemies ^<:ame to take their city.*
They were aU, in short, in the strangest disorder fuid
^istracdoH, till by pj^^y^ &Bd isaciim^es they had a{K
peaked the angeir of the gods* This is what they
call panic terrors.t
CHAPTER XVIII.
That we are not to judge of Man* s Happiness before
-' ■ i his Death.
Expectanda dies komini est, dicique beaius
Ante ptittm ninnQ.nipr0niagueJimeru deiet^X
: Till iDBnfsilaBt day it cmoewe tfaovid not dm.
Of happiness to 4ay what t^as hia sbatre ;
Since or no man can it be truly said,
* . lliat he is happy tin he fibrst be dead.
jfom^'u . ± HERE is scarce a boy at school but knomrs the
to iSju?g-'StoTy of king Ctoestis to this purpose, who^ being
cdofufii takea prisoner by Cyrus, andcoademiicd to suffer
^i death,, cried out on the soafipld, O Solon! Solon 1$
which. being reported to Cyrus, ^nd he inquiring
/what it meant, <Jrobsus gave mm to understand, that
iie now was convinced,' to his. cost, of die truth of
that'waming which was fbrmdrly given him by Solon,
viz. To caU no man happy,' how much soever .fortune
. -' ' tmpod upon him,* till he md passed over th^ last day
of his lire, by reas^ of tihie uacertainky and viciasi-
i ; ♦* I>iqitonMr of /Sicily, lib. ;cy. fsxg, f., . .
I Id. ibid, and Plutarch in his Treatise of Isis and Osiris^ cap. S#
Ovid. , Metam. lib. iii. &b. 2, ver. 5.
*«$ Heredot. lib. i. p. iO.
JtrDGEd BElPOfiE I^ATH. €7
tude of human affairs, which are apt to change, in an
instant, from one condition te tihie opposite. , There*
fore it was, that A^eisrilaus said, in answer to one whd
pronounced the tmg of Persia ia happy man fait
coming very yoiing to such A height of power, " It
•* is true, but neither was Priam at such an i^ un*-
•* happy.'** We know that some of the kings of
Macedon, ^ccessors ttf Alexander the Great, were
reduced to be joiners and carpenters at Rome ; a
tyrant of Sicily, to be school-master at Corinth ; a
conqueror of one half of the world, and genera! of
many armies, a miserable supplicant to the beggarly
officers of a kiiig of Egypt* So dear did the great
Pompey pay for a rieprieve, of five or six months,
from deatn. In the time of our fathers, Lewis Sforza,
the tenth duke of Milan, who had so long made dl
Italy tremble, died iti prison at Loches,t and what
was worse for bim, he had suffered imprisonment ten ^
years. That ihosi beautiful queen,t the widow of/ '•' *
the greatest king in Christendom, did not she die by 3 ^ -»
the band of an executioner ? Base and barbarou!»
cruelty ! and to this might be added a thousand more
instances of the same kind ; for, as storms and tern-
pests are provoked at the pride and loftiness of ouf
structures, it would seeni that there are spirits above
which envy the grandeur of this lower world :
Usque adeo res humanas vis aldiia qtUBdum
Obterit, el pidckros fasceSj scevasque secures
Proculcare, hoc kmbro sibi habere %ndehir,%
And hence we ftney tmssBii Powbbs in tilings,
Whose force and will sych stnuEige oonfbttDn brings^
And spurn and overthrow our greatest kings*
•
Plutarch^ in his notable Sayings of the Lacedfimoniand,
' t In the leign of Lewis XII. who co&fiudd him there, AxttO l50a
X Maiy 9 queen of Scotland, and liiodier of James I. king of £t^
land, WW bi9$eadisd in this kingdom, by order of queen £lizabeth, in
1587. Montaigne surely wrote this long after the passage in the fol«
lowing chaDtary wberehe tefls us, that the year he then ^rote in, Was
but 1573; but we do not find this particular in the quarto edition of
1588.
( Lucr. lib. v.Ter. 1231, &c.
6S man's happiness not to- BE
It would seem also as if fortune sometimes^ lies ui
wait to surprise the last day of our lives^ to show the
power she nas in one moment to overthrow what she
was so man^ years erecting, and makes us cry out
with Labenus, Nindrum hac die un4 plus vLvi mihi
guctm vhepdum fuit ;• i. e. I have therefore lived one
day too long. And in this sense, it were reasonable
to attend to the ^ood advice of Solon ; but he being
a philosopher, with which sort of men the fiivours
and i^owns of fortune stand for noting, either to
the flaking a man happy or unhappy, and with whom
grandeur and power, accidents of quality, are in a
manner quite indifferent, I am apt to think, that he
had some farther aim, and meant, that the very feli-
city of our lives, which depends on the tranquillity
and satisfaction of a generous mind, and on the re-
solution and stability of a well-composed soul, ought
never to be pronounced as the enjoyment of any
man, till he has been seen to play the last, and
doubtless the hardest act of his part. In all the rest
there may have been some disguise. Either these
fine lessons of philosophy are only calculated to keep
us in countenance, or accidents, not touching us to
the quick, allow us to preserve the same gravity ; but -
in tms last scene, betwixt death and us, there is no
more playing tlie counterfeit, we must speak plain,
and if there be any purity and simplicity at the bot-
tom, it must be discovered :
Nam vene voces ittm demum peclore ab imo
EjichmlvTf eteripUurpersofias manet res.\
For. then their words will with their thoughts agree.
And all the mask pulFd off> show what they be..
This last act, therefore, ought to be the criterion
or touch-stone by which all the other actions of our
life are to be tried and sifted. It is tJie grand day, it
is the day that is judge of all the rest ; " It is the
•* di^," says one of the ancients, ** by which all my
* Macrobius, lib. iL cap. 7« f Lucret. lib. iii. v. 57, 5&
JUDGED BEFORE DEATH. 69
•• ^ars past are to be judged/* To death do I sub-
mit the trial of the fruit of my studies. It will tlien
appear whether my discourses came ttnly from my
mouth, or from my heart. I have known many who,
by their death, have given a good or a bad reputa-
tion to their whole lives. Scipio, the fiither-in-law of
Pompey,* by d)ang well, expunged the ill opinion
which had till then been conceived of him. Epa-
minondas being interrogated which of the three men
he had in greatest esteem, Chabrias, Iphicrates, or
himself ;t " We must all die,** said he, ** before that
^ question can be resolved.** It would really be do-
ing vast injustice to that personage to scan him, with-
out considering how great and honourable was his
end. The Almighty has ordered every thing as it
best pleased him ; but, in my time, three of the most
execrable persons that ever 1 knew, most abominably
vicious, and likewise the most in&mous, died natural
deaths, and, in all circumstances, perfectly com-
Eosed. There are some deaths that are grave and
appy. I have seen the thread t of a person's life
* This remark is taken, if I mistake not, from Seneca. It is a
pretty long passage, but so curious a one, that I cannot help trans-
cribing it here. Seneca, desirous to fortify his friend against the
terrors of death, said to him, in the first place, * I should prevail on
* you with more ease, were I to show, that not only heroes have dc^
* pised the moment of the soul's departure out of the body, but that
* even dasitards have in this matter equalled those of the greatest
* fortitude of mind.' And immediately after he adds, * Even like
^ thm, Scipio, the father-in-law of Cn. Pompey, who, being drove
* by contrary winds to the coast of Africa, when he saw his ship de-
* tained by the enemy, stabbed himself with his own sword ; and to
* those who asked him where the general was, said, ** The general
'* is welL" This word equalled hun to his superiors, and did not
* sufier the glory fiital to the Scipios in Africa to be interrupted. It
* was a great task to conquer Carthage, but a harder to conquer
* death.' Seneca, Epist. 24« ^
f Plutarch, in Msnotsible Sayings of thesncient kings, princes,
ondgener^.
X It is very probable, that Montaigne speaks hereof hi» friend
Boctius, at whose death he was present, as appears by a speecft which
Montaigne caused to be printed at Paris, in 1 571 » wherein he men-
tions the most remarkable particulars of Boetius's sickness and death.
As this speech does honour to both these eminent friends, and is
bettome very scarce, I shaQ insert it bcr^aitat;
70 THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY
ci|t in Ms progress to ,wondetfiil advancement, an*
in the prime of his years, who made so glorious ait
exit, that, in my opinion, his ambitious and courage-
ous projects had nothing so sublime in them, as tlie
manner in which be bore their interruption ; and he
arrived, without completing his course, at the place
he proposed, with more grandeur and glory, than he
could desire or hope for ; anticipating, by his fell,
the feme and power to which he aspir^ in his career.^
In. the judgment I fortn of another man^s life, I?
^ways observe how he behaves at the end of it ; and'
the chief study of my own, is, that my latter end
may be decent^ calm, and silent. ^
CHAPTER XIX,
That tie who studies Philasaphy^ karns to die.
wbttHithe V/ICERO says, " That the study of philosophy is
%\\oj! ** nothing more or less than a man's preparation for
phgr, ** his death." The reason of which is, because study
and contemplation do in some sort witJidraw and em-
ploy the som apart from the body, which is a kind of
discipline for death, and a resemblance of it ; or else,
because all the wdsdom and reasoning in the world
terminates, in this point, to teach us not to fear to
die. And to say the trutih, either our reason abuses
us, or it ought to have no other aim but our satisfec-
tion, and no other exercise, in short, but to make us ,
live well, and, as the holv Scripture says,* at our
ease« The opinions of all manlkind agree in this,
that pleasure is our end, though men use divers.
means to attain to it, otherwise they would be re-
jected as soon as started ; for who would give ear to^
a man that should establish our affliction and misery
for his end ? The disputes of the philosophic sects
« Ecdesiastes^ chap. iil. ver. 12. * I know that there is no good
^ in them, but for a man to rejoice and do good inhtslife**
TBilCHSS US TO DiE. 7 1
in this poiAt are merely verbal, Transcurramu4 sokr*
tisskBits nuges ;* i. e. Let us skip over those learned
trifles, in which there is more obstinacy and ^b<^
bling than is consistent with so sacred a profession }
£>r what character soever a man undertakes to per-;
senate, he ever mixes his own part with it.
Let aU die philosophers say what they will, the How pica.
sore it the
and
mark at which we all aim, even in virti^e itself, isaiu
pleasure. I love to rattle this word in their earsyf^^of
because it is so very grating to them $ and if it de-^ "^^^
notes any supreme delight, or excessive satisfaction,
it is more owio^ to the assistance of virtue, than to
any other aid« This pleasure, for being more gav,
nervous, robust, and manly, is onty the more seriously
voluptufHis ; and we ouf ht to give it the name of
pleasure, as that which is more fiivourable, ge&tle,
and natural ; not that of vigour, from which we have
denominated it The other more sordid pleasure, if
it deserved so fair a name, it oupht to be upon ac»
count of concurrence, not by privilege. 1 do not
think it less free from inconveniences and crosses
than virtue. Besides that the enjoyment of it is
more momentary and unsubstantial j it has its watch-
hfigs, firatings, and labours, even to sweat and blood \
and moreover has so many several sorts of wounding
passions in particular, and, so stupid a satiety attend-^
mg it, that it is as bad as doing, penance. We are
very much ^mistaken in supposipg that its ihconveni^
enccs serve as a spur to it, and as a seasoning for itsii
sweetness, as we see in nature, that one contrary is
quickened by another ; and to say, when wcf opme to
virtue, that the like consequences and difficulties
overwhelm it,''and render it austere an4 inaccessible ;
whereas, much more aptlv than in voluptuousness,
they ennoble, sharpen, atid hcSjghten the divine and
perfect pleasure which virtue procures us. He is
certainly very unworthy of being acquainted with it,
who weighs the expense i^sdnst die profit, and knows
* Seneca, epnC* 117*
7d THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY
neither its charms nor how to use it. They wha
^ preach to us that the pursuit of it is rugged ana pain-
ful, but the fruition pleasant, what do they mean, but
fhat it is always disagreeable? For what human
means ever arrived to the attainment of it? The
most perfect have been forced to content themselves
with aspiring to it, and to approach, without ever
possessing it. Of all the pleasures which we know^
the very pursuit of them is pleasant. The attempt
savours of the quality of the thing which it has in
view. The felicity and rectitude which shines in
virtue, fills up all its apartments and avenues even
from its first entrance to its utmost limits.
TiiB eon- One of the chief benefits of virtue is, the con-
^fhw€ tempt of death, an advantage which accommodates
of tiMpiin. human life with a sofl and easy tranquillity, and gives
^u^fTlrT'.us a pure and amiable taste of it, without which
♦»«• every other pleasure is extinct ; which is the reason
why all the rules of philosophy centre and concur in
this one article. And though they all unanimously
teach us in like manner to despise sorrow, poverty,
and other accidents to which tne life of man is sud«
ject, yet they' are not so solicitous about it, not only
because these accidents do not so necessaitly require
it, many men passing their whole lives without feel-
ing poverty, sickness, or sorrow, as Xenophilus,* the
musician, who lived to the age of a hundred and six,
in perfect health ; but also because at the worst,
death can, whenever he pleases, cut short, and put an
end to all other inconveniences : but as to death it is
inevitable:
Omnes eodemcogtTmtr; omnium
VersatvT urna ; seriuSf ocyus
Sots exituroy et nos in cetemum
Esdlium imposUura c%imbm.\ i. e.
* Omnk kumani incommodi espers^ (says Valerius Maximus, Kb*
Viii* dap. IS, in Externis^ sect. 3.) in summo perfectimma splendore
idoctfin^eexHnclus est ; u e. Anber having lived free from every
human ailment, he dic^ in the liighest reputation of bebg perfect
master of his science.
f H6r. lib. ii, ode iii: yer.^.,
TEACHES US TO DIE. 73
To the same &te we must all yield hy tarn,,
Sooner or later^ all must to tlie um :
When Charon calls aboard^ we must not stay^
JBut to eternal e^le sail away.
By consequence, if it fright us^ it is a continual tor-
ment, of which there can be no mitigation; and
there is no way by which we can possibly avoid it.
We may incessantly turn our heads this way and that
way, as if we were in a suspicious countty, gu^ quasi
saxum Tantaloj semper impendct^^ i. e, like the rock
<>f Tantalus, it always hangs over our heads, ready
to fell. Our courts of justice often sent coifideinned
criminals to be executed at the place where the fact
was committed : and w^re thpy to be carried to all
the fine houses by the way, and entertained with as
good cheer as you pl^ase^
nnn SicuUs dapes
Dulcem elaboralnmt saporem :
Non avium dtharceque cantos
Somnum reducent.f
Tlie best Sicilian dainties would not please.
Nor yet of birds, or harps, the harmonies
Once charm asleep, or dose their watdiful eyes*
Do vou think it would make them merry, or that the
fetal end of their journey being continually before
their eyes, would not deprave their tastes, so as to
have no relish for any of these delicacies:
j4udlt iter numeraique dies, spaiioque viarum
Mt'titur vitam, iotquetur peste Jutura^X i* e.
He time and space computes by length of ways^
Sums up the number of his few dark days;
And his sad thoughts, fiill of his faoil doom.
Have room for nothing but the blow to come.
The end of oiu: race is death ; it is the necessary
olgect of our view, which, if it frights us, how is it
possible we should advance a step, without a fit of
an ague ? the remedy which the vulgar use is not to
. * Cic. de Finib. lib. i. cap. 18. f Hor. lib. iii. ode i. ver. 18,&c.
;f Claud, lib. iL ver. 137, 138*
74 THE aTUDY OF PHILOSOTHT
think of it : but frbm what brutish stupidity can they
be so grossly blind ? they must bridle die ass by the
tail.
Qui capite ipse sifo instituit vestigia retroJ^
He who the order of his steps has laid,
To light, and nat'ral motion retrogade.
It is no wonder if he be often taken in the snare«
Our people are frightened at the bare mention of
death, and many cross themselves at it, as if it were
tlie name of the devil. Because tliere is mention made
of death in last wills and testaments, you are not to ex-
pect they will set their hands to them till the physi-
itian has utterly given them over : and then, betwixt
grief and terror, what excellent judgment they have
to carve for you, God only knows ! The Romans,
observing that this monosyllable, death, was very
shocking to the people^s ears, and that they thought
it an ominous sound, found out a way to sofien it,
and to express it periphrastically, and instead of say-
ing, in plain terms, such a one is dead, to say,
such a one has lived, or has ceased to live : for if the
word life was but mentioned, though past, yet it was
some comfort. From hence we have borrowed oup
phrase. The late Mr. John, &c. Peradventure, as
the saying is. If the term is worth my money.! I
was bom betwixt eleven and twelve o'clock at noon,
on the last day of February, 1533, as we now com-
pute, beginning the year with Janu^, and it is now
just a fortnight since I was complete thirty-nine years
of age. It is not certain, at least, but I may live as
many more ; vet not to think of a thing so remote,
would be folly. For why ? the young and the old
quit life ujpon the same terips, and no one departs
out pf it, otherwise than if he had but just before en-
* Lucrct, lib. iv. v. d-T^.
f This proverb is mostly used by such as, having borrowed mo-
pey for a long term, take no care for the payment, Hattcring theni-
veives that something will happen, in the mean time, for their be-
nefit or discharge.
^TEACHES US TO DIE. 95
tered into it ; mbredvcr, there is no man so very oM,
who thinks of Methusalem, but imagines he has still
a constitution for twenty years longer. Biit, tliou
ibol ! who has ensured, or radier assured, unto thee
the term of thy life ? Aou believest what the physi-
cians say ; but rather consult £tct and experience.
According to the common course of things, it is an
extraordinary favour thou hast lived so long. Thou
hast already exceeded the ordinary term of life ; and
that thou may3t be convinced of this, do but call to
mind thy acquaintance, and reckon up how many
more have died before tiiey arrived at thy age, than
ever attained to it. Do but make a register of such,
even whose lives have been distinguished with fame,
and I will lay a wager, that more have died under
thirty-five years of age than above it. It is highly
rational, and pious too, to take example by the hu-
man existence of Jesus Chhist himself, who ended
his life at thirty-three years of age. The greatest
man, too, that ever was, of mere men, viz. Me%*
ander, died also at the same age. How many wa}'8
has death to surprise us ?
Quid quisque videt, nunquam hommi satis :
Cauium est in Iioras/* i. e.
What met) should shtm is never knows.
We, unprovided, are undone :
Man fain would shun, but 'tis not in his pow*F
T* evade the dangers of each threatening hour.
To omit ieversr and pteuri^es^^ wlio would ever have
imagined, that a duke of Brittany should be pressed
to death in a crowd, as one was in 1305, in the reign
of Fliilip the Fair, at pope Clement's entry into
Lyons ? Have we not seien one of our kings t killed
ftt his diversion, and one of his ancestors die by being
♦ Horace, lib. ii. ode 13. ver. 13, 14.
f Henry II. (of France) mortally wounded in a tonmament by
the count ae Montgomery, one of the captains of his guards.
76 THE STUDY OP PHILOSOPHT
pushed down by a hog?* jEschylus, being threatened
by the fall of a house, ran out of it into the fields^
where he was knocked on the head by a sheU-&h
which an eagle dropped from its talons.t Another,
viz. Anacrcon, was choked with a grape stone ;t
an emperor died by the scratch of a comb, in comb-
ing his head. 5 JBmilius Lepidus lost his life by a
stumble at his own threshold ; atid Aufidius lost his
life b)r a jostle against the door as he entered tlie
council chamber. || Cornelius Gallus, the praetor ;
Tigillinus, captain of the watch at Rome ; Ludovico,
' son of Guido de Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua,^ilx£^
' .♦ betwixt the very thighs of a woman. And a worse
instance oftliis was, Speusippus,5r a platonic philo-
sopher, and one of our popes. The poor judge Be-
bius, during the reprieve oi eight days which he gave
to a criminal, was himself seized, and lost his life.**
Whilst Caius Julius, the physician, was anointing
the eye of his patient, death closed his own.tt And,
to come nearer home, a brother of mine, captain St.
Martin, who had already given sufficient proofs pf
his valour, though but three and twenty years of Btge>
playing at tennis, received a blow from the ball, just
above his right ear, which made no scar nor contu-
sion, so that he did not so much as sit down, or rest
himself upon it ; vet, in five or six hours after, he
died of an apoplexy, occasioned by that stroke.
These examples being, as we see, so frequent and
common, how is it possible that a man can disengage
* FhQip, or, as Bome say, Lewis VII. sob of Lewk ie Gros, who
was crowned in the life-time of his father.
f Valerius Maximus, lib. ix. cap. 12, inextemis, cap. 2.
j: Plin. Nat. Hist. Ub.'viL cap. 53. § Ibid. sect. 8.
B Ibid. lib. vli. cap. 53.
^ Tertullian affinns this, bat without muqh foundation. Audio»
says he, in his Apoloeetic, cap. 46, that Speusippus, one of Plato's
disciples,' died wnile lie was committing adultery. As to the death
of Speusippus, Diogenes Lacrtius says, That, being shattered with
I a violent palsy, and broke down with the weight of old age aod
vexation, ne at last put an end to his own life.
♦♦ Pliny's Nat. Hist, lib.vii. cap.53. ff Ibid.
TEACHES US tO DIE. 77
himself from the thoughts of death, or avoid fincying
that it is ready every moment to take us by the coU
lar ? What does it signify, you will say, which way (
it comes to pass, provided a man does not torment \
himself with the apprehension xxf it ? I am of this ^
opinion, that if a man could by any means screen
himself from it, he would, though it were by a calPs
skin. I am not the man that would flinch, fox all I
desire is to be compose^ and the best recreation
that I can give myself, Ttake hold of, be it as inglor
rious and un&shionable as you please : '
Preiulerim delirus mersque viderij
Dum mea delectani nuila mc^ vel deniquefaUofU,
Quam sapere, et rmgi.* i« e.
I would be rather thought a doating wight.
If my own errors my own self delight,
Tlian know they're such, and owe myself a spight.
Or, . •
A fool, or sluggard, let me censur'd be,
Whibt my own fiiults delight or cozen me.
Rattier than know them such, and feel the shame.
That my performances have hurt my fame.
But it is a folly to think of carrying the point by that
means. People go and come ; they gad abroad, and
dance, and not a word of death. All this is fine ; but
when it comes either to themselves, wives, children,
or friends, surprising them unawares, what torments
do they feel, what outcries do they make, what mad-
ness and despair possess them ! did ever you see any .
people so dejected, so changed, and so confounded ?
jDiere is an absolute necessity therefore of making
more early preparation fi>r it. And we slKiuld pay
too dear for. the neglect, could any man be supposed
so void of sense as to be guilty of it, which I think
utterly impossible. Were it an enemy that a man
could escape jBrom, I would advise him to borrow the
armour even of cowardice itself for that, purpose ;
but, seeing it is not to be avoided, and that it catches
* Hor. IS), ii. ep..2. vcr. 126.
TS tHis.tTU»r to raataao^HT
the runaway and the pottnxsa, aa well las the gallant
man:
Mots etfiigacefn persetfmiur vintm^
Nee parcii imbeUis jtwenttx
PoplUibuSf iimiioque iergoJ^ t. e*
No speed of foot prevents 6fM\\ of his prize,
*He cut the hamstrings of ttie man that flies ;
VoT 4Mire< the feoriul jtripUng*« trade, who sfeaits
To ruD beyoiK) the re^ch of all its darts.
I^orasmuch also as there is no armour proof enough
to secure us,
Elelidifkrro^ eauius se condai^ H4Bre
Mors tamen imlusum protrahet inde cafnU.f u ۥ
Though arm'd with steel, or brass, against his ftte.
Death will his soul and body separate. .
let US learn bravely to stand our ground against its
attack : and that we may, in the first place, deprive
it of the greatest advantage it has over us, let us take
a course quite contrary to the common way. Let
us disarm it of its strangeness ; let us converse and
be iamiliar with ft, and iiatne nothing so frequent in
our thoughts as death ; let us, at every turn, repre-
sent it to our imagination, and view it in all aspects.
At the stumbling of a horse, at the fall of a tile upon
our heads, or the least prick of a pin, let us make
this reflection at the very instant. Well, and what if
it had been death itself f And therev^n let us hard-
en wad fortify oursdvi^. Amidst all our lasting and
jollity, let us evermore curb ourselves with the re-
membraiice of our condition, and not suffer ourselves
io be so far transported widi pleasure, as to forget
2iow many ways this merriment of oiirs exposes us to
death, and with how many dang^s it threatens us^.
This was the practice of the Egyptians, who, in the
hdi^t of their ieastings and carousals, caused the
* Hor. lib. ill. ode 2. ver. 14, &c.
t Propert. lib.iii. eleg. IS, Ter25, 96W
i Tfticmw VB TO itfi;. ^ - ^
dried' skefeton of a ms^i to beJbroi^gibt mtp theroom^
to serve for a memento to their gaesta.^
(Xmnem crededian tiU dUupcisse supfemum y
Grata supervemei, qiuB nm spercuntwr honu t i« ^
Think ev'iy rising sua will he ihjr last f '
And then the next day's light thine i^yea^ shall see.
As unexpected, will more welcome be.
Where death wBits for us, is uncertain ; therefore
Jet us look for it eveiy where. The premeditation of
death IS. the premeditation oflibert^* He who has
learned to die, has forgot what it is to be a slave-
T)ier^ is po siich thing as evil in life to hhn, who
rightly jCjomprehendS) that the being deprived of life
is not aa evil. The knowing how to die, frees U3
fi-om all subjectiop and constraint. When the un-
happy king qt Macedon, who was Paulus ^Smilius'ls
prisoner, pqnt to entreat him that he would not lead
fiitn in triumph, the latter made answer, that truly ^
is i^i your owi» power, t In truth, if nature does not
iend a little assistance in all things, it will be difficult
for art and industry to make; any progress. I am my-
self not melancholy, but thoughuul, and. there is no-
.thing whiph I have more frequently entertained my-
self with, than the ideas of death, even in the most
licentious ^^eason of my life, in the pleasant spiling* of
florid ^ge :
Juaadum cum aiasjhrida vir agera.^
In the company of ladies, and in the height of
play, some hive, perhaps, thought me brooding up-
on jealousy, ' or on the uncertainty of some hope,
while 1/was ehtertaininff myself with the remem-
brance of some person who was lately surprised with
a fever which carried him off after an entertainment
like this, ^hen his head was full of idle fancies, love,
* Herodotus, lib. ii. p^ I3S. f Hor. lib. if epist i, ver. 13, l^
^ X PluUirchy in the life of ^millus, ch. 17. of Ainyof s traofr-
lation. Cic. Tubc; Qusst lib. v. cap. 40.
j. Ci[^iis, ep. qs, ver. 16. .
80 THE BTtTDY OF POnOMPHf
aAd jofitty, as mine was thto, and that thefeferr I
had the more to answer for:
Jamfiieriif tmc postuhquam retfocare licebU.^ u e.
Ere while he had a being aiDongstmen,
Vcm fgOMy and ne'er to be reaitl*d again.
Yet that thought did not add a wrinkle to my fore-
head more than any other. It is impossible but such
;^maginati6ns must, at their first conception, sting
/ us ; but by often revolving them in our minds, and
{ maJdng them familiar to us, they are sur6 at the long-
Trun to lose their sting: otherwise, for my part, I
' should have been in a perpetual fright and frenzy ; for
never was a man so distrustful of his life, never man so
indifferent about its duration. Neither the health
which I have hitherto enjoyed with great vigour, and
with little interruption, prolongs, nor does sickness
contract my hopes of life. Methinks, I have an es-
cape every minute, and it eternally runs in my mind,
whatever may fall out another day, may as well hap-
pen to-day. Hazards and dangers do, in truth, lit-
tle or nothing hasten our end ; and if we consider
how many more remain and hang over our heads, be-
sides the accident that seems to threaten us immedi-
ately, we shall find tliat the sound and the sick, tliose
who are at sea, and those who are at land, those who
are abroad in the wars, and those who enjoy
tranquillity at home, are the one as near death as the
Other. No man Ls more frail than the other, nor
more certain of the mdrrow.t For any thing I have
to do before I die, I should think the longest leisure
short to. finish it, if it took but an hour's time. A
certain person, the other day, looking into my
table-book, wondered to find a memorandum in
it of something that I would have done aflcr
my death ; upon which I told him the real truths
tfaiat thoujgh I was no more than a league from my
house, and at that tune in good^health and spirits,
^ Lucret. lib.iiL ver«928* f SenQca, ep.9#
TSACHES US TO DIE* ^l -
yet when that thing came into my head, I made
haste to write it down there, because I was not cer- •
tain to live to get home. As I am a man that am ,
continually brooding over my o\vn thoughts, and ) i
keep them close to myself, I am prepared, at alH *
hours, for what may happen, and uie approach of
death will be no novelty to me. We should always, >
as far as possible, be booted, and ready to depart}!
and be careful, above all things, to have no business \
to do then but 'our own :) ' '
Qwd brevi fortes jaculamur eevo
MuUa?* i.e.
Why cut'st thou out such mighty work. Tain man,
Whose life's short date 's coroprb'd in one short span ?
For we shall find work enough to do there with-
out any addition. One man complains the more of
death, because it stops his career to a glorious vic^
tory ; another, that he must be snatched away be-
fore he has married his daughter, or made a settle-
ment on his young children ; a third laments that he
must part from his dear wife ; a fourth, that he must
leave nis son : as if these were the chief comforts of
life. For my part, I am at this instant, thanks be
to God, in such a state, that I am ready to quit my
being, whenever it shall please him, without an^
manner of regret. I am quite disengaged from the
world ; my leave is soon taken of all but myself. Ne*
ver was any man prepared to bid adieu to the worlds
absolutely and purely, nor did any one ever quit his
hold of it more imiversally than I hope to do. The
deadest deatihs are the best.t ^
• Horace, ode 16, hVii. Ver. 17» Ip.
f Death il^ here considered as the introduction, and actual pas-
sage to a state of insensibility^ which puts a period to our life. The
more silently and rapidly we arrive to that state, the less ought the
passage to terrify us. This comes up very near to the import of that
bold and enigmatical expression of MoBtaigne, yjbL ** Thai the
•* deadest dea£sare the best.
VOL. U G
»S T&E STUDT OF PfilLOSOPHt
— '^Mlser, 0 miser (aiuntj mnnia adetkit -.
Vila dies infesta mihi lot prtemia vitce.* i. e*
Wretch that I am (they cry) one fatal day
So many joys o/ life has snatched awayw
And the builder^
Maneni (ait ille) operd interrupiaj mtneeaue
Murorum ingmieSf Ofquataque machine coelof. \
Stupendous piles (says he) unfiuish'd lie^
Ana towers, who^ summits touch the vaulted sky.
A man must form no design that will take so much
time to finish it, or that at least he will be so passion-^
ately desirous of seeing brought to a conclusion.
We are born for action:
Cum maridr, medium solvar et inter opus. % u Cr
When death shall come, it me will find
Employed in something I design'd.
I would always have a man to be doin^, and spinning
out the offices of life as far as possible; and that,
though death should seize me planting my cabbages,
I should not be concerned at it, and much less for
leaving my garden unfinished. I know one who, on
his dcatli-bed, complained incessantly of his destiny
for cutting off the tiiread of a chronicle he was then
compiling, when he was advanced no farther than
the fifteenth or sixteenth of our kings.
Ubtd in his relms von addunt^ nee tibi eamm .
Jam desiderium rerum, svpervnsidei una,§ i. e»
They tell us not, that dying we've no more
The same desire of things as heretofore.
We are to divest ourselves of these vtilgar and nox-
ious humours* To this very purpose it was, said Ly-
curgus, that men appointed their burial-places nigh
the churches, td accustom the common people, wo-
' * Lucret lib. iif. ver. 911 , 912. f Virg, iEn^id. Iflj. iv. ver*88, 89.
± Ovid. Amor. lib. ii. eleg. 10, ver, 36.
' J Lucret, lib.iiL ver. 913, 9H.
\
\
tEACHCS Ud TO DUS* «0
tntn and duldren^ so much to the vie^ of the dfead
bodies, that they might not be startled, and to the
end that the continual sight of bones, graves, and
funerals, might put us in mind of our mortality t
Quin etiam exhilarare viris cbnvivia cc^e
Mas olim^ et miscere epulis spectaadd dird
CertcUumferrOj sape et super ipsa cadenluni
Pocidaf respersis turn parco sanguine memis.* i. a
Twas therefore that the ancients, at their feasts,
Widi tragic slaughter us'd to treat their ^ests ;
Making their fencers, with their utmost spite^
Skill, force, and fury, in their presence fight :
Till streams of blood o'erflow'd the Spacious liall.
Staining their tables, drtnking-cups^ and dll;
As the Egyptians, after their feasts/ presented their
company with an image of death, which was brought
in by one that cried out to them, Drink and be mer^
ry, for such wilt thou be when thou art dead; so
have I made it a practice, not .only to have de^th in
my imagination, but continually in my mouth ; ^^s^
therej£iWJlhiEg c^^ th©
»ajMyEa:.jQCmfia'? defti^ looks^
SBil,deportment ; nor is there any passage in history
that takes up so much of my attention ; and it is ma^
jiifest, by many instances of this kind which I have
mentioned, that I have a particular fancy for this sub-
ject. If I was a writer of books, I Would compile a
register of the various deaths of people, with notes,
which would be of use for instructing men bodi to
live and die. Dicearchus made one to which he gave
that title, but it had another view, that was not so
profitable.!
It will, perhaps, be objected by some, that the That u ho*
circumstances of dying so far exceed all manner of *^^?*?«*.
conception, that the best fencer will be quite off his dhuh be^''
guard when it comes to that push. Let them iav'®'*'*"^
what the^ will, premeditation is of great benefit ; and^
besides, is it nothing to proceed so far at least with« ^
* SiLItal. lih.:(L yer.51, &e. f Ci6.0ffio. Hb. ii. €ap.5«
as
84 T£[£. STtDt 07 PfilLtfSOPirr
out any disturbance and tremor ? but, moreover, n^
ture itself assists us in the encounter. If the deatb
be sudden and violent, we have no time &r fean
I perceive that the longer a distemper holds me, I
naturally contract a certain disgust of life. I find it
much more difficult to digest this resolution of dying
when I am in hefJth, than when J am sick of a fever.r
The less I am attached to the comforts of life, by my
beginning to lose the use and pleasure of them, the
aspect of death becomes the less terrible to me;
which gives me the hope, that the farther I remove
from the former, and tne nearer I approach, to the
latter, the more easily I shall compound for the ex-
change. I have experienced in many other occur-
rences, that^ as Cffisar says, things often appear to us
greater at a distance than near at hand ; and have
found, that when I was iii^ health, I have heH dis*
eases in much greater horror than when I have felt
themr The alacrity, pleasure, and vigour I now en-
joy, represent the contrary estate to me in so great
a disproportion to my present condition, that, in my
imagmation, I swell these inconveniences to twice
their magnitude, thinking them more weighty than
I find them to be in reSity when I labour under
them ; and I h<^€ to find the case the same with re-
spect to death. Let us but observe, in the ordinary
changes and declensions which we suflPer, how nature
steals from us the sight of our bodily decay. What
remains t6 an old man of the vigour 6f his youth and
maturer age ?
Heu ! aenihus vitce poriio quanta manei P ^
' Alas! how small a part of life's short stage
Kemains for travellers aidvane'd in age !
A veteran soldier of Caesar's guards, who was quite
jaded .and bowed down with age, coming to ask him
leaver that he mi^ht dispatch himself; Caesar, ob^'*
sirvihgMs (tecrepyness,and his long beard that hung
. . ^ Sleg. k Maximia^iy ci^r^
I'EACHfiS US TO Dlfi« S^
^own to his breast, answered pleasantly, thou fan-
ciest then that thou art still ahve,* Should ^ man
£ill into old age on a sudden, I do not think he
would be capable of enduring such a change ; but,
being led by the hand of nature, as it were, by a
gradual and insensible descent, it rolls us gently into
that miserable state, and fiuniliarises it to us, so that
when youth dies in us, we feel no shock, though it
is in fact a harder death than the total dissolution of
a languishing life, and than the death of old age ;
forasmuch as the leap from an uneasy existence to a
lion-existence is not so disagreeable, as from a
sprightly, florid state of existence, to one that is full
of pain and anguish. The body, when bent, has less
istrength to sustain a burden ; and the case is the same
with the soul ; it is absolutely necessary, therefore,
that she should be raised upfirm and erect against the
power of this adversary. Tor as it is impossible she
should be in tranquillity while in fear, so if, on the
other hand, she be composed, she may boast f which
is a thing almost above the state of mortals) that no
uneasiness, torment, and terror, nor the least dis-
gust can affect her happiness :
Nan viiUus instantis tyranm
Metiie ^uaiii solida ; nequeAuster, '
Dux inquieti iurhidus AdruB ;
Necfutminaniis magna Jovis manus.f i. e.
A soul well settled is not to be shook
With an incensed tyrant's threat'ning look.
It unconcern'd can hear the tempest roar,
And raging ocean lash the thund'ring shore*
Not the uplifted hand of mighty Jove,
Though chargM with lightning, such a mind can move.
She is then become the mistress of her lusts and pas»
sions, the mistress of distress, shame, poverty, and
all the other injuries of fortime ; let us therefore, as
many of us as can, gain this advantage, which is the
true and sovereign liberty that enables us to defy
* Senec, Epist.77v t Hon lib.tiii odeS.
J
86 THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY
violence and injustice^ and to despise prisons and
chains ;
■ ■ In manins et
Compedibus scbvo te sub custode tenebo.
ipse DeuSj fmulatqne tHilamy me solvei. Opinor,
Hoc senlii : moriary Mors tdiima linea rerum e/i.*
^ith bolts and chains I '11 load thy Teet and bands^
Doom'd to obey a gaoler's stcru commands.
Know^ 1 the tyrant's utmost rage despise :
Propitious God will listen to my cries ;
By death will free me, when with woes opprest;
And crown my sufferings with eternal rest.
Arvcimieats OuF religion itself has no surer human foundation
^D^ ^?than the cOnteinpt of life. Not only reason prompts
4«th, us to it; for wr\y should we ffear to lose a thing,
which, being lost, cannot be regretted? besides,
since we are threatened with death of so many va-
rious kinds, is it not worse to fear them all, than to
suffer one of them ? And what matters it when it
happens, since it is unavoidable ? " Socrates being
•' told, that the thirty tyrants had condemned him
•* to die ;"t " And so has nature them,** said he.
What a folly is it for us to afflict ourselves about a
passage that exempts us from all trouble ! As our
birth brought us the birth of all things, so when we
<lie all things to us will be dead. Therefore, to la-
ment that we shall not be alive a hundred years
hence, is as absurd as to be sorry that we were not
in the land of die living a hundred years ago. Death
is the beginning of another life. So did we weep,
and so much it cost us to enter into this, and so did we
put off our former veil, when we entered into the
i present state, ^^othing can be a grievance that is
but for once j and is it reasonable to be so long in
fear of a thing that is of so short a duration ? A long
life, and a short, arc by death made all one ; for
there is no difference in things that are no more.
* Hor. lib. i. ep. 16, ver. 76, Ac.
f Socrat:6 was not condemned to death by the thirty tyrants, but
by the Athenians. Diogenes Lacrtius, lib. u. scgni. So. *
TEACHES US TO DIE. 87
Aristotle relates,* that there are certain little beasts
on the banks of the river Hypanis, which live but one
day, and that those of them which die at eight
o'clock in the morning, die in their prime, and those
that die at sunset are in the age of decrepitude. Who
of us would not be indifferent whether happiness or
misery w^ere the lot of a momentary existence ? Ours,
be it more or less, if compared to eternity, or even
to the duration of mountains, rivers, stars, trees,
and even of some animals, is no less ridiculous.
Nay, nature itself forces us to our dissolution ; D««th u %
" Go out of this world," says she, " as you came into JJ^^,?/„.'***
** it. By the same passage that you came fro;n death tion «f th«
" to life, without passion or fear, go back from life ""'^*'**'
** to death- Your death is a part of the constitution
** of the universe ; it is a part of the life of the
** world :
Inter se mor tales muiua vhmntj
.£/ quasi cursores vitce lampada tradunl.
Among themselves mankind alternate live,
And life's bright torph to the next runner give 4
** Shall I alter this excellent system of things for you ?
*< It is the condition of your creation; death is a part
•' of you, and whilst you endeavour to escape it, you
** fly from yqurselves, This very being of yours tliat
•• you now enjoy, is equallv shared betwixt life and
** death. /The day of your birth is one day's advance )
•* to death as well as Jue ; / ^
frimaj qitise vftam dedit^ hora carpsit^ §
Nascentes morimury Jiiiisque ab ongine pendei* Q
The hour that first gave life its breath,
Was a whole hour's advance to death.
As we are bora we die ; and oui life's cndl
Upon our life's beginning does depei^d,
♦ Cicero Tuscul. Qosst lib. i* cap* 39*
+ Lucret. lib, ii. ver. 75, 78.
X This is an allusion to the Athenian games, wherein those that
ran a race carried torches in their hands ; which, when the race was
over, th^y delivered into the hands of those that were to run next.
^ Senec Hercul. chor. 3, ver ^9* II M^nil* lib. ii^ v^r. 1&
88 THE STUDY (^;PHIL080FHY
^^ Every day you live you steal from life, and live
"at the expense of Kfe itself. The perpetual work
" of your life is to build up death. You are in death
" while you live, because, when your life is ended
*^ jrou succeed to death ; or, if you had rather have
" It so, you are dead after life, but dying all the time
" you live, and death handles the dving much more
" roughly, sharply, and more feelingly than the dead.
'' If you liave made your advantage c» life, you have
** had enough of it, go away satisfied :
Cut non ut plenus vittB conviva recedis P *
Why dost thou not retire, like to a guest, '
Sated with life, as he is with a feast ?
** If you have not known how to make the best use
" of it, and if it was unprofitable to you, why should
** you be loth to part with it ? To what end would
^ you desire longer to keep it ?
Cur ampUus addere qucBtis
Rursum quod pereat male et ingratum occidat omne»\
And why, fond mortal, dost thou ask for more ?
Why still desire t' increase thy wretched store, .
And wish for what must waste like those before ?
•* Life, in itself, is neither a good nor an evil ; "but it
*' is the scene of good or evfl, as you make it ; and
•' if* you have lived a day you have seen all ; one day
^ is like all others. There is no other light, no other
** sight ; this very sun, this moon, these very stars,
** the present system of things is the very same that
** your ancestors enjoyed, and the same that will en-
** tertain your latest posterity :
Non alium videre palres^ aliumve nepotes
AspicienLX
Your grandsires saw no other things of old.
Nor shall your grandsons other things behold.
" And come the worst that can come, the distribu-
*^ tion and variety of all the acts of my comedy are
* Lucret. lib. iii. ver.951. f ibid. lib. iii. ver. 95t, 955.
X ManQius, lib. i. ver. 521, 522.
* TSACttES US TO DIE. 89
** performed in a year. If you have attended to the
** succession of my four seasons, they comprehend
** the infimcy, youth, viiility, and old age of the
** world. The year has played its part, and has no
*' new scene, but will always be a repetition of the
** same thing :
Fersamur ibidemy aique insumus usque.* i. e.
We yearly tread but one perpetual round,
We ne'er strike out, but beat the former ground.
Atffue in se sua per vestigia volvititr annus, f i. e.
And the year rolls within itself again.
•* I am not determined,'* continues Nature, " to con«
•* tinue any new recreations for you:
Nam tihi prcetefea quod machinery inveniamque
Quod placet nihil est; eadem sunt omnia semper. % i-e.
More pleasure than are made I cannot frame.
For to all times all things will be the same.
•* Make room for others, as others have done for you.
** Equality is the soul of equity. § Who can com-
*^ plain of being under the same destiny with all hi?
*' teliow-creatures ? Besides, live as long as you can^
** you will thereby not at all shorten the space of
*• time that you are to lie dead in the grave j it is all
** to no purpose : you will be every whit as long in
^^ that situation which you so much dread, as if you
*^ had died at the breast :
'Licet quot vis vivendo vincere secla,
Mars cBlema tamen, nihikminus ilia manelnL\\ i. e.
For though thy life should numerous ages fill.
The state of death will be eternal sdll.
^' And yet I will place you in such a condition as you
*' shall not be dissatisfied with :
In vera nescis nullum fore morte alium te
Qui pitssit viiustibi te Itigere peremptum.
6lcmsque jacinlem.% i. e.
* Lucret. lib, iii. ver. 1093. f Virg. Geo. lib. ii. ver. 402.
% Lucret. lib. iii. ver. 957, 958. § Senec. epist. SO.
II Lucret Ub. ill. ver. llOS, 110*. % Ibid. ver. 898.
90 THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPirr
VVben dead^ a liviag self thou canst not hav^
Or to hunent or trample on thy grave.
•* Nor shall you so much as wish for the life you arc
^* so ipuch concerned for :
Nee sill enim quisquam turn se vitamquei requhrit^
Nee desiderium noslri nns afficH uUum.* i. c.
Life, not ourselves we wish in that estate,
Nor once about ourselves deliberate.
^ Death is less to be feared than nothing, if there
** was any thing less than nothing :
— Mulio mortem minus ad nos esse putandmuy
Si minus esse potest quam quod nihil esse videmus.f i. e.
If less than nothing all the world can sliow.
Death vpuld appear tp ms, and wpuld be so,
** Neither can it any way concern you, whether li\-ing
** or dead : Not living, because you still exist ; nor
** dead, because you are no more. Moreover, no
^ one dies before his hour ; and the time you leave
^^ behind w$s no more yours, than that which was
^^ past and gone before you was born ; nor does it
^^ any more concern you :
Jtespice enim quam nil ad nos unteacta vetustcs
Temporis ceierhl J'uerit.'^ J. e,
Look back, and thougli times pst eternal were,
In thcise before us yet we had no share.
" Let your life end where, or when it will, it is al}
** included in eternity. The benefit qf life consists
" not in the space, but the usq of it. Such a one
*' may have lived a long' time, who yet may be said
^^ to have enjoyed but a short life. Give attention
" to time while it is present with you. It depends
** upon your will, and not upon the number of years,
** tnat you have lived long enough. Do you think
^* never to arrive at the place towards which you are
pontinually going? And yet there is no road but
C(
* J^ucret. ver.932, 935. f Id. ibid. • t Id. ve:. 985» £|jB6^
TEACHES VS TO BIE. 91
^^ hath its end. And if company will mdee it more
^^ pleasant, does not all th^ world go the sel£-samQ
** way as^you do ?
Omnia te vita perfuncta sequentur.* u. e.
All the world in death must follow thee.
^ Does not all the world dance the same brawl that
^' you do ? Is there any thing that does not grow old
^^ as well as you ? A thousand men, a thousand ani-
^* mals, and a thousand other creatures die at the
^ same instant that you expire:
Nam nox nulla diem, veque nociem aurora secuta estf.
Quienon audierii misios vagitibus cegris
FloratuSf mortis comites, et funeris o/n.f
Na night succeeds the day, nor morning's light^
Succeeds to drive away the shades of night,
Wherein there are not heard the dismal groans
Of dying men mix'd with the woful moans
Of living friends, as also widi the cries.
And dirges fitting funeral obsequies.
*' To what end do you endeavour to avoid death,
*' unless it was possible for you to evade it ? You
^* have seen instances enough of those to whom it
** has been welcome, as it has put an end to their
*^ great misery. Have you talked with any to whom
** it has therefore been unwelcome ? It is very foolisti
** to condemn a thing which you have not experi-
** enced, neither yourself, nor in the person or any
*' other. Why (says Nature) dost thou complain of
" me and destiny ? Do we wrong thee ? Is it for thee
*' to govern us, or for us to dispose of thee ? Though
** thy age may not be accomplished, yet thy life is.
^' A little man is as entirely a man as a giant ; neither
** men nor their lives are measured by the yard*
^^ Chiron refused to be immortal, when he was ac- immoitan.
** quainted with the terms upon v;hich he was to en- *y ^^^
** joy it, by his father Saturn, the very god of time, Za wiST*
^^ and its duration. Do but seriously consider, how
• Luc et. lib. iu. ver. 98L t Ibid. lib. ii. ver. 579| 58a
9t PinLOSOPHY TEACHES US TO DIE.
*' much more intolerable and painful a life would be,
^' which was to last for ever, than that which I have
*' given thee. If death was not to be your lot, you
*' would eternally curse me for having deprived you
** of it I have, it is true, mixed a Tittle bitterness
^* with it, to the end, that when you have perceived
** the conveniency of it, you might not embrace it
" too greedily and indiscreetly : and that you might
•^ be established in this moderation which I require
** of yon, neither to fly from life nor death, I have
** tempered both with bitter and sweet. I taught
** Thales, the chief of all your sages, that either life
** or death was indifferent ; so that, when one asked
"him, * Why then did he not die?* he answered
" very wisely, * because it was a matter of indif-
*' ference.' Water, earth, air, and fire, and the other
" members of this my structure, are no more the in*
" struments of thy life than of thy death.* Why art
*' thou afraid of thy last day, which conduces no
" more to thy dissolution than any before it. The
^* last step is not the cause of lassitude, but only the
" discovery of it. Every day travels towards death,
** thy.last only arriye^s at it.'* Thus fafTIie goo^
lessons of our mother Nature.
Whyrfeafh I havc oflcu cousidcrcd with myself whence it
i^ipears to ^\iqx^i^ procccd, that, in the field of battle, the image
*dieadr«i in of death, whether we view it in our own danger of
bLufe'oian ^^' or iu that of others, is not near so dreadful as in
tn our ownour owu houscs, (which if it were not fact, they would
^^^' ' be a pack of whining milk-sops) and that though
death has always the same aspect, yet it meets with
more courage in peasants, and men of low rank,
than in others. I really believe, that the dismal air
and apparatus with which we set it out, terrifies us
more than the thing itself. A new manner of life
quite contrary to the former ; the cries of mothers,
wives, and children ; the visits of astonished, afflict-
ed friends ; the attendance of pale and blubberijig
* Seneca, epiLit..l20»
THE POWER OF IMACmATIOK. 9S
tervttnts; a dark rcmm, ^vith "burning wax tsipers in
it; our beds surrounded with physicans and par-
sons ; in short, nothing but ghastliness and horror
about us, make men iancy themselves already dead
and buried.* ** Children are afraid of their very
*' fiiends when they see them masqued, and so are
•* we oursdves. The vizor must be taken off as weH
** from things as persons/* When that is removed,
we shall find nothing underneath but the very same
death which a footman or a chambermaid suffered
the other day without any fear. Happy therefore is
diat death which does not give time to mlake such a
pompous apparatus.
CHAPTER XX.
Oftheef.
Of the Power of lanaginaiian,
Jt ORTIS imaginatio gen€7^at casum ; a strong ima-
gination begets accidents, says the sqhoolraen. I am [*^^i^
one of those who are sensible of the very great tian.
power .of imagination. Every one is jostled, and
some are overthrown by it. Its impression pierces
me, and for want of strength to resist it, I have no
recourse to art to escape it. The company of those
that are healthy and cheerful is all that I wish for.
The very sight of another person's anguish gi\^s me
sensible uneasiness, and I often sympathise with a
third person. A perpetual cough in another, tickles
my lungs and throat. I more unwillingly visit the
sick, to whom I am in duty bound, than those for
whom I have less concern and regard; I contract
the disease which engrosses mv attention ; nor do I
at all wonder that fancv should occasion fevers, and
sometimes death, to those who give way to its ex-
travagancies. Simon Thomas was a great pliysician
* • Seneca^ epist, 2^*
94 TITE POWER OF IMAGIKATIOIT.
of his time : I remember, that meeting me One Any
at Thoulouse, at the house of a rich Old man, who
was troubled with bad lungs, aixd consulting hira
about the cure, he told his patient, that one thing
would conduce to it, namely, to give me some cause
to be fond of his company ; and that by fixing his
eyes on the fireshness of my complexicm^ and his ima-
gination upon the abundant sprightliness and vigour
of my youth, and possessing all his senses with that
florid state of body which I then enjoyed, his con-
stitution might be the better for it ; but he forgot to
say that I might hi^pen to be the worse for it.
Gallus Vibius so long cudgelled his brains* to find
out the essence of madness, that his judgment be-
came affected. Some there are, who, through fear,
save the hangman a labour ; and there was a man,
whose eyes being unbound to have his pardon read
to him, was found dead upon the scaffold, through the
mere force of his imagination. We start, tremble,
turn pale, and blush by the shocks of our imagina-
tion ; and when covered over head and ears in bed,
feel our bodies agitated with its power to such a de-
gree, that some nave thereby expired. So warm is
the imaj^nation of youth, even when fast asleep, a^
to satis^ their amorous desires in a dream ; which
Lucretius expresses a little too nakedly in the follow-
ing distich, viz.
Ul quasi transactis scepe omnibus rebuSf profiindant
Fluminis ingentes fluctus vestemque cruentenL* i. e..
Who love enjoys in sleep, bis infiam'd mind
Lays his love's tribute where 'twas not designed.
* Seneca, the rhetoriciati, from whom Mont&igne must have
taken this story, does not sav that Gallus Vibius lost his reason bj
endeavouring to comprehend the essence of madness, but by too
Mudious an application to imitate its motions. As this Gallus n'as a
rhetorician by profession, he imagined that the transports of madnef^s
represented livelily in dialogue, would charm his audience, and took
so much pains to play the madman in jest, that he became so in
earnest. He is the only man I ever knew, says Seneca, that be»
came mad, not by accident, but by an act of judgment. Contro-
vers. 9, lib. iL t Luctet. lib. ix. ver. 10S9» lOSa
THE POWER OF l>IAOlKATIO{f. 95
Although it be no new thing to see horfi9 grafted
ia the morning on the head of a person that had
none when he went to bed^ yet memorable is what
befel C^ppus, a noble Roman^ who, having one day
been witn great delight a spectator of a bull-iight, and
having all night long dreamed that he had horns on
Ills head, lus forehead produced them in reality next
morning by the force of imagination** It was doWQ«
right passion that made Croesus's son speak, who was
bom dumb.t Antiochus caught a fever by being
too deeply impressed with the beauty of Stratonice.
Pliny say«, in his Natural History, lib. vii. cap. 4, xhesiiwy
that he saw Luciua Crossicius, who from a womanwas fJX^
turned into a man upon her very wedding day. Pon^ {» lo^*^
tanus and others relate the like metamoiphoses that
have happened in these latter ages in Italy. And
through the vehement desire of him and liis nK)ther,
Fota puer solvit^ quee fijemina voveraty Iphis.l >• ^*
Iphis, a Jx)jr, the vo\<r dcfray'd
That he had promis'd when a mmd.
1 myself, as I passed through Vitrj^ le Fran9ois, a
town in Champagne, saw a man, whom the bishop
of Soissons confirmed by the name of German, whqiu
all the inhabitants of the place had known and seen
to be a girl by the name of Mary to the age of twen^
ty-two. When I saw him he had a very bushy beard,
was old, and not married. He told us, that by
straining himself in a leap, his virile member came
out ; and the young women of the place have a song
to this day, wnerein they caution one another not to
* PUoypuls this story in the same class as that of Actaeon, and
supposes both to be fabulous. Nat. Hist lib. xi. cap. 4«5. Valerius
Maxixnus gives this Cyppus the title of praetor, and says, that a:* he
departed from Rome, in the habit of a general, and the accident
which Montaigne speaks of here happening to him, die diviners d(|-
dared, that Cyppus would be a king if he returned t) Rome; where-
; upon be voluntarily condemiied himself to perpetual exile^ in order
. to prevept it. V^ler. Max. lib. v. cap. 6. *
4- Hj»odotuS| lib. i. pag. 89.
i Ovid. Metam. lib. ix. fab. 12, ver. 129.
96 THE POWER OP IMAGINArtON'.
fake too large strides, for fear of being turned into
men, as Mary German was. It is no such wonder
if this should often happen ; for if imagination has
any power in such things, it is so continually, and so
vigorously attached to this subject, that, to the end
it may not so often relapse into the same thought and
eagerness of desire, it were better to incorporate
this virile part into the girls* once for all.
^•trmnge Somc attribute the scars of king Dagobert and St.
ima^na- Francis to the force of imagination. It is said, that
*ion* bodies are sometimes removed by it out of their
places. Celsus tells us of a priest, whose soul was
m such an ecstatic rapture, that the body remained
for a long time without sense and respiration. St.
Austin mentions another, who, if he did but hear
any lamentable or doleful cries, would &U suddenly
into a swoon, and so profound ^a lethargy, that it
was to no purpose to bawl in his ears, shake, pinch,
or scorch him, till he came to himself j then he said,
he had heard voices, as it were afar off, and felt when
they scorched and pinched him : and that this was
not a dissembled obstinacy in defiance of his sense of
feeling, was plain, because he had all the while nei-
ther pulse nor breathing,
whyittch It is very probable, that the credit of visions,
^iwcnut enchantments, and such extraordinary effects, is
eictem- principally derived from the power of imagination,
meota" Ac. which makes the greatest impression upon the more
credulous minds of the vulgar, who are very apt to
believe they see what they do not.
From I am also in some doubt whether those pleasafit
pro*c1J^di ligatures with which this age of ours is so hampered,
5wrof *^**' scarce any thing else is talked of, are not the
cfttti^ voluntary impressions of apprehension and fear. For
I know by experience, that a certain man, whom I
$an answer for as well as for myself, and one who
* A false and extrava£;ant thought thiB. I am not at all rarprited
that Montaigne canie to be possessed with it, for who does not dreafti
sometimes when he is awake ; but what I wonder at is, how he could
determine to make use of it.
THE FOWEK OF rMAOIKATIOK. 07
can by no meim be suspected of impotency, and as
little of beinff under a spell, who naving heard a
companion of his tell a story of an extraordinary
disability that seized him at a very unseasonable time»
being^ afterwards in the like engagement, the horror
of toe relatioh so roughly shocked his imagination
all on a sudden, that be met with the same fate as the .
other had done ; and for that time SorwBird was subt
ject to rekpse into it, the remembrance of his dis^
aster curbing and tyrannising over him« He found
some remedy however for this idle fimcy bv toother,
namely, by his own frank confession, and previous
declaration of Ins infirmity to the party with whom
he was to do, whereby the contention of his soul
was in fiome sort iq^peased ; because knowing that
now nothing better was expected from him, his obli-
gation was the less, and he suffered the less by it,
when he was free at bis choice (his thought being
disentangled and at liberty, and his body in its proper
state) he caused the part to be handled^ and was .
perfectly cured. After a man has once given proof
ai his capacity, he is never afler in danger of non-
performance, unless upon the account of real wed^«
ness. Neither is this disaster to be feared, but in
adventures where the sotil is extended beyond mea*
sure with desire and respect, and especially where
opportunitieB call out that are urgent and unforeseen.
There is no way of recovery from this trouble ; and
vet I have known some who have found their account
by comii^, aft:er being half-sated elsewhere, pur^
posely to cool the heat of their fory ; and some who
through age find themselves impotent by being less
able. And I knew another who was made easy^ l^
being assured that a friend of his had a counter-biat-
tery of certain charms to preserve him. . The story
18 WQftk telling.
A count of a great fiunily, with whom I was very a pimaiit
intimate, being married to a fair lady, who had been ^^^!^
courted by one of the guests at her wedding ; all his <j^ *•
fiiends, eq^eciaBy an old lady, his kinswoman, whatto^'^
rou L H
98 THE PaWBR OF IMAGIXATIOir.
had the direction of the marri^ge-feaftt, and aturhose
jbouse it was kept, were in great fear that:thiere would
be some sorcery in the case!, and she communicated
her apprehension to me.. I desired her to rely upcm
my care. I had, by chance, in my possession a snIaU
plate 6f gold, whereon was . engraved some c^ the
celestial signs, which was good to prevent the brain-
pan from l^ing scorched W thtf heat of the'sut), and
to remove, the head-ach, if it was applied exwdvito
the suture of the skull ; and in order to keep it firm^
a ribbon was tadked to it, so as to be tied under the
chin ; a piece of quackery, cousin-german to what
we are now speaking of I had this singular present
from James rellatier, who lived with me, and having
a mind to make an ei^perimentwith it, I told the
count that he; might possibly have the same trick put
upon him as had been pl^}red with some other bride-
grooms, some persons being in the house who cer«
tainly intended to do him such an ill office ; buit I
advised him to go boldly to bed, ivhen I would do
him the office of a friend ; and, if need required^
would not spare to work a mirade that was in my
power, provided he would assure me upon his honour
to keep it an entire secret. All that he had to do
was in the night, when they came to brine him his
' Jggudle, if matters had not gone well with him, to
'eive me a sign. His ears had been so dinned, and
his mind so prepossessed, that he found his. imagi-
nation reallv disturbed, and therefore, at the time
agreed on, he gave me the sign. I then whispered
him, that he should get out of bed, under pretence
pf putting us out of the chamber, and that taking
off my night-gown, as it were in a frolic (we being
much of a size), should put it on himself, and keep
it on till he. had done what I ordered him; which
was, that when we were gone out of the room, he
should retire to make water; repeat certain words
« three times, and make certain motions; that at each-
time he should tie the ribband I put into hi^ hands
about his waist, and place the medal thatw^ ap-.
))ehdant to it (the figures in sueh a ]^osition) Ver^
carefully upon his kidneys; Which being done, and
having, M the last of the three times, so Well fkstened
the ribband, that it could neither unlodile, iior slip
from its place, he might securely renew his dttabk^
not forgetting to spread my night-gown on his bed in.
. Such a manner that it might cover them both. Iif
• thescrfricks the effect chiefly consists, our fancy be-
ing seduced to think that such strange formalities
must proceed from some occult science^ Their in-^
signifieEuacy really gives them weight and reverence.
Upon the whole, it was ciertain Siat tny character^
were more venerean than solar^ arid contested more
in action than prohibition. It was indeed a sudden
whim, mixed with a little curiosity, that prompted
me to do a thing to which I hare by nature an Aver-
sion; for I am an enemy to all Subtle and sham per^ .
formances, and wash my hands of all flnesse, whethei'
it be for pleasure or profit; for if the action be nob
vicious, the manner erf it is. Amasis, king of Egypt ^
married Laodicea^ a very beautiful Greek- virgin;
and though he wbs a man of approved gallantry to
all others, yet he could by no means enjoy her, so
that he threatened to kill her, on a suspicion that she
was a witch* As it is usual with &ncy, it put him
upon devodon, and having made his vows and pro-
mises to Venus,* he found his strength divinely
tepaired the very first night after his oblations and
sacrifices. Now, in plain truth, women are to blam<l
for putting on those disdainful, coy, and angry coun->
tenances, which extingirishes the vigour of the men,'
as it kindles their desire. It was a saj^ng of tlie
dau^ter-inJaw of P^rthagoras,t that *^ the wcrnian
^^ who goes to bed with a man, must put off her mo^t
^' desty with her petticoat, and with the s&ifae ptxt it
* Herodptud, lib. li. p. ISO, says, that it v^ Hot Ania^is, bin
Laodicea» or Ladice, wno faithfully performed a raw she had madtf
to VenaSy by erecting a statue to her, which, said he^ was still standi
idg in my time.
t Diog. Laert in the Lift of Pythagoras, lib. tSI^ segnU49»
100 TU£ POWER OF IMAGINATIOK.
<^ on again/'* The assailant being disturbed in fnind
with a variety of alarms is easily dispirited ; and who«
ever has been once thus mortified by the mere force
of imagination (a mortification which it never gives
but at the first congress^ because that is the most
ardent and eager, and because also, at this first trial,
a man is most timorous of miscarrying), whoever, I
say, has made a bad beginning, he becomes in^
and peevish at the accident, which will be apt to stioc
to him upon future occasions.
How aur« As for married men, whose time is all their 6wn»
^^to they ought neither to be too hasty, nor so much as
t^r thu ^ attempt the feat, if they are not prepared. And
ud?^^^ it were better to fiul in the decorum of handselling
the nuptial sheets, when a man is fiillof agitati<m
and trembling, and to wait another opportunity, at
a more private and tranquil juncture, than to make
himself perpetually miserable, by being confi^unded
and enrag^ for being baffled at the first attadc.
'Till possession be taken, a man, subject to this in-^
firmity,' should leisurely, and by degrees, make se-
veral slight trials and offers, without provoking him*
self, and striving against the grain, m order to be
fully convinced in his own mind of his ability. Such
. as know their members to be naturally obedient to
their .desire;s, need only be carefiil to counterplot
their fancy,
ffone The indocile liberty of this member is sufficiently
"it^Mii." remarkable, by its importunate demand when we have
em, othere nothing fi^r it to do, and by so imperiously disputing
•re the j|jg ^n^ority with our will, and with so much pride
and obstinacy^ denying all solicitations both manual
and mental* "And yet though its rebellion is so in-
solent 9S to give sufficient proof to condemn it, if I
were feed to plead its cause, I should perhiqps bring
> l^f Montttlgiio here. mentions Theano, the famous Pythagorean
woman, who was the wife, and not the daughter-in-law of Fj^tha-
goras: See Diogenes Laertius in the Life m Pythagoras, h'b. Yiii.
segm. 42. It is M. Menage who has taken notice of this small mis*
take of Montaigne. Diogenes IJaertiuBy torn. xxxv. p. 50Q» coL 2»
TH£ POWER OF IMAGINATIOy. lOl
its fellow-members into a suspicion of contriving this
mischief against it underhand, out of pure envy at
the importance and riaivishing delight peculiar to its
employment, and of arming mankind against it by
malevolently charging it atone with their common '
offence. For I leave it to be considered, whether
there is any one part of our bodies which does not
often refuse to operate as w6 would have it, and often
exercise its function in opposition to the will. They
have every one of them proper passions of their own
that awake 0!i^ stupify them without our leave. How
often do the involuntary motions of the countenance
discover our secret thoughts, and betray us to by«
standers ? The same cause that animates this mem-
ber, does also, without our perceiving it, animate the
heart, lungs, and pulse, the very sight of an agree-
able object imperceptibly inflaming us with a feverish
disorder. Is it those veins and muscles only that
swell and flag without the approbation, not only of
our will, but of our opinion r We do not command
. our hairs to stand on end, nor our flesh to tremble,
^ith desire or fear. The hand often conveys itself
to parts which we donot direct it. The tongue fal-
ters, and the voice is sometimes interruptiM when we
cannot help it. When we have nothing to eat, and
would willingly allay the appetite both of eating and
drinking, it nevertheless provokes the parts that are
suscep^le of it, and abandons us in like manner,
and as unseasonabl}^, as the other appetite of which
we have been speaking. The vessels that serve to
discharge the belly have their proper dilatations and
compressions without and beyond our direction, as ^
well as those which* are destined for evacuating the
reins. /And that which, ibr justifying the prieroga-
tive ofSmr wiU, is urged by St. Augustine viz. That
he had seen a man who* could command his back-
* Somcy without any shame, utter such a variety of sounds from
their fundaments at their will, as if they seemed to sing from that
part, Aug. de Civit. Dei. lib. xiv. cap. 2*. To which Vives adds,
oy wayofcommeDtary, * Such was, in our tinie, a certain Qerman in
log THE POWER OP IMAGINATION*
side to discharge as many &-*t8 as he pleased, and
which Vives mustrated by another example in his
time, of one that could let them off in tune,^^dpes
tiot suppose that part to be any more obedientjtlian
the others ; fpr is any thing commonly more noisy or
indiscreet ? To which let me add, that I myself knew
pae so turbulent and. refractory that way, that for
forty years together made his master-vent with one
continued explosion without iptermission. I could ^
heartily wish, that I only knew by reading, how oft
a man's, belly, by the snipthering of one single f— t
has brought him to the very door of » tormenting
death.; ^d that the emperor,* who gave liberty to f— t
any where, bad at the s%me time given us the power
of doing it, 3ut fis to our will, for the sake of whose
prerogatives we prefer this accusation, with how
jnuch greater probability might we not reproach it
with rebellion and sedition, by its irregularity and
disobedience ? Does it always <>perate as we would
have it ? Dpes it not often will what we forbid it to
y^ill, An4 to our manifest dams^e ? Does it suffer
itself, more th^n any of the other fs^culties, to be
directed by the results of our reason ? To copcludes
I should move, in the behalf of thg^jgenj^emaQ, my
plient, that it might be considered, that though in
this pirqupistance his cause is inseparably and indis-
tinctly conjoined with an accomplice, yet he only is
called in qvie^tion, and that by argumepte and ac-
cusations that cannot be charged upon his ^aid ac-
complice, who sometimes invites at a wrpng^easpn,
and never refuses, and who allures tacitly>nd clan-
destinely. Therefore is the malice and injustice of
his accusers Jinanifestly apparent. But be. that ^ it
will, let the advocates and j lodges p^rss sentence as
th^y plei^e, nature will have its course, s^nd slie
f the retinue of Maximilian the emperor, and his son Philip ; nor was ; -
* there any tune which he coul^ not imitate with his imnvodest f— 1».' \
* Claudius, the fifth Roman emperor. But Suetonius only relates,
that it was said the emperor Claudius had a design to authorise this
freedom any where, even at toasts,' Sec the Life of Claudius, cap. 32,
•THE POWEH OF IMAGINATION. lOS
^ould have d(^e no more than justice, if she had
^endowed this member with some special privilege, as
the author of the only immortal work of mortds 5
the divine work, according to Socrates, and love, the
desire of immortality, and the immortal daemon
iiimse1£ • '/
Some one, perhaps, by such an effect of imagine coofld«icf
lion, leaves the king*s-evil behind him, which hifi|?^^^
companion carries back into Spain. This is the rea-tru»otct to
son why in such cases it is usual to require the mindJJj^^US^jJ
to be prepared for the thing which is to be under-
taken, why do the physicians practice beforehand
*^iipon the credulity of their patient with so many false
promises of his cure, unless it were that the force cf
imagination might be a salvo for the imposture of
•their apozems ? They know that a great master of
their faculty has left it under his hand, that theirib
<are some men on whom the very sight of a medicine
has operated. What has put this whinmcal conceit
into my head, is the remembrance of a stdiy that Was
told me by a domestic of my late father's apothecary,
^n honest Swiss, whose countrymen are not given to
<vaniQr nor lying, viz. That he had known a merchant
at Thoulouse, who, being a valetudinarian, and af^
^ttcted iKith the stone, had frequent occasion to take
cljrsters, of which he caused several sorts to be pre-
scribed to him by the physicians, according to the
accidents of the disease, and they being brought to
him with all the usual forms, he often felt with his
finger whether they were not too hot. Being laid
down.pn his^bed, the syringe put up, and all the ap-
paratus performed, except injection, the apothecary
bdng retired, aind the patient treated in all respects as
if he had received a clyster, he found the same efiect
^at those do to whom it has been actually adminis-
tered. If at any time the physician did not think
the c^eration sufficient; he gave him two or three
more after the same manner. The Swiss moreover
swore to me, that^ to save charges (for he paid as if
104 THE POWER OF IMAGIKATIOW.
he had really taken the dyrters) the patierit's wife
having sometimes made trial of wann water only,
the effect discovered the cheats and finding these
would do no good, he was fiun to return to ue old
way.
A distein. A woman fancying she had swallowed a pin in m
tmcM by f^^<^ of bread, cried out, sadlv complaining of an
mere mtolcrablc pain in her throat, where she thought she
J^JH felt it stick* But an ingenious fellow who was wought
f "B- to her, finding no outward tumour, nor alteration,
and guessing that it was only a conceit she h^d takea
at some crust of bread that had pricked her as it went
down, gave her a vomit, and probably dropped a
crooked pin into the bason, which the woman ima-
gining she had voided, presently fdund herself eased
of her pain. I myself knew a gentleman, who
liaving made 9n entertainment at his own house for
some company, gave put, three or four days after it,
by way of jest omy (for there was no such thing) that
he had made them eat a baked cat ; at which a young
lady that was.one of the guests took such an abo-
minable disgust, that she was seized with a violent
sickness at her stomach, and a fever, to such a d^ree,
that there was no possiblity of saving her.
The brute That Other animals are- subject to the power of
rabj^^to^i^^^gi^iation as well as man, has been seen in some
t^'S^ dogs, which have died of grief for tti^e loss of their
Bati!^' masters. We observe them also to bark and tremble
^^[^^^"^^in their sleep, as horses will neigh and kick in theirs.
tMe'Myof But all this j^fiay be ascribed to the close connection
««>^'' betwixt the body and soul, mutually imparting what
they feel to each other.
On the other hand, the imagination operates some-
times, not upon its own body only, but upon the
body of another, just in the same manner as an in-
jected body communicates its distemper to its neigh<>
hour, as we perceive in the plague, small-pox, md
sore ey^^ which are conveyed from one body to
another :
TBB POWSB OF IM AOIKATIOIT. 105
Dwm speotaM ocuB Ubsos, taeduniur Vipsi:
JiuUcujue corporilms irmsUione noceni.* i. e.
Viewing Mie eyes^ eyes to be aore are broiight,
Aod many ills are by uansition caught.
So die imaginationy being vehemently agitated, emits
ideas catfame'of hurting another object We read in
ancient liiiitory, of certain women in Soythia, who, be-
hiff animated and enraged against any one, kffled them
om^ with their looks. Turtles and ostriches hatch
^Ib^vi egi^ with only looking at them ; which shows
-thtt theur eyes have a certain power to dart. And the
'eyeB of sorcerers are said to be malignant and hurtfol:
Nesch quis ienert>s oculus mikifascinat agnos.\ i«e.
What eye it is I do not know,
' My tender lambs bewitches so.
' /
'^ Magicians are but bad vouehers for me ; yet we The imasi.
find by experience, that women imprint the marks ^^•^
of their £incy on the infimts they bear in their wombs, with chudw
Witness her that was brought to bed of a n^ro, and
the girl that was brouj^t Kom the neighbourhood of
Pisa, and presented to Charles, king of Bohemia,
and emperor, all over rough and hairy, whom her
mother is said to have conceived when she was look-
ing at an image of St John the Bi4[>tist, that hung
by her bed-side. -
It is the same with animals ; witness Jacob's sheep,' The potter
fmd the partridges and hares, which turn out white j)^^^"^
jupon the snowy moimtains. There was at my house, nah.
a little while ago, a cat watching a bird that was at
liie top of a tree, and after having fixed their eyes
stedfiutly upon one another for some time, the bird
dropped down dead, as it were, into the cat's claws ;
either being intoxicated by its own imagination, or
allured by some attractive power in puss. They
who are rond of hawking, must no doubt have heard
the stoiy of the fidconer, who, having steadily fixed
* Ovid, de Remedio Amoris, lib. iL ver. 390.
f VirgiL Eclogue vL ver. 189.
106 THE TOWEB, OF IMAGIKATIOK.
his eye upon a kite in the air, laid a wager' that he
would bring her down by the mere power of his
sight ; .and it was said he did so. As for the tales I
borrow, I charge them upon the consciences of those
^£rom whom I have them. Tht arguments are my
own, and founded upon the proof of reason, not <^
experience, to which every one is at the liberty of
^adding his own examples : and he that has none to
offer, }et him believe, nevertheless, that Ii^re are
^ougl), considering the number and variety 6f ac-
cidents. .If I have not made a just application tit
them, let any body else make a better. Also ip.the
subjects whereon I treat of our manners and motives,
the testimonies which I produce, how fabulous soever,
provided they are not impossible, serve as well as the
true ones, n hether they happened or not, at Rome or
at Paris, to John or to Peter, it is still a turn ;of the
human capacity, of which I have made good use by
this recital. I see it, and benefit by it, as much in
the shadow as in the substance ; and of the variotts
passages I meet with in history, I select that for my
5urpdse which is the most rare and remarkable,
'here are $ome authors, whose aim it is to give an
account of things that have really happened ; mine,
if I. can attain to it,* should be to^epresent w4iat may
. possibly happen. There is a just liberty allowed in
the schools, of supposii^ similes when they have none
at hand. < I do not, however, make any use of that
liberty ; and as to that afiair in superstitious rdigion,
I surpass all historical authority, in die instances
which I here mention of what I have heard, read,
done, or said. I have laid myself under a prohibi-
tion to presume to alter the slightest and most trifling
circumstances. My conscience* does not falsify one
tittle ; what my ignorance may do, I cannot say.
u^MittJ^ 1'^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ makes me sometimes ponder with
Mc with a myself, whether it can be ^consistent with a divine
phrr'*and a^^^ ^ philosophcr, and men of such delicate con-
divine to scieuccs, aud exquisite wisdom, to write history,
writehi»to. jj^^ can they stake their credit on that erf the put)-
THE POVBE OF IMAGINATION. 107
lie ? How can they be responsible for the opinions
of men whom they do not Iknow, and deliver their
conjectures as cajlofiical ? Of actions performed be-
fore their own eyes, wherein several people were ac-
tors, they Would be unwilling to give evidence before
a judge, and they would not undertake to be abso-
lute surety for the intentions of their most familiar
acquaintance. For my part, I think there is less
hazard in writing of things p^t, than present, for-
asmuch as the writer only relates matters upon the
authority of others.
I am solicited to write the history of my own timely mho.
by some people, who think I look upon its aflkirs'„of^riTe"*
with an eye less prejudiced than another, and that I**** Y'*^^
have a clearer insist into them, by reason of the ac-tfai^l' *"*"
cess which I have had, bv my good fortune, to the
leaders of the different factions ; but they dp not
consider that, were I to giih the reputation of Sal-
lust, I would not take the pains, being such a sworn
enemy, as I ^m, to all oblieration, assiduity, and
perseverance ; besides, that there is nothing so in-
consistent with my style, as an extended narration.
I often, cut myself short in it for want of breath. I
am neither good at composition nor comment, and
know no more thstn a child the phrases and idioms
proper for expressing the most common things;
therefore I have undertaken to treat of what I know
how td express, and have accommodated my subject
to my capacity. Should I take a guide, I might not
beable to keep pace with hifiri. Nor do they consi-
der, that while lindulge such a freedom, I might de-
liver opinions, which, in my own judgment, and ac-
cording to reason, would be illegal and punishable.
Plutarch would be ready to tell us, that what he has
wrote is the work of others ; that his examples arc
all md every where strictly true ; that they are use-
ful to posterity ; and are exhibited with such a lustre,
as will light us in the way to virtue, which was his
aim. Whether an old stoty be true or false, it is not
of dangerous consequence.
lOS ONE man's profit IS ANOTHER'S LOSS.
CHAPTER XXL
One Man^s Profit is another^s Loss.
JL/EMADESy the Athenian^ condemned a fellow*
citizen, who ibmished out funerals, for demanding
too great a price for his goods ? and if he got an es*
tate, it must be by the death of a great many people:
but I think it a sentence ill grounded, forasmucn as
no profit can be made, but at the expense o£ some
other person, and that every kind of gain is by that
rule liable to be condemned. The tradesman urives
by the debauchery of youth, and the farmer by the
deamess of com ; the architect by the ruin of build-
ings, the officers of justice by quarrels and law-suits ;
na3^, even the honour and function of divines is
owing to our mortality and vices. No physician takes
pleasure in the health even of his best fiiends, said
the ancient Greek comedian, nor soldier in the peace
of his country ; and so of the rest.'^ And, what is
yet worse, let every one but examine his own heart,
and he will find, that his private wishes spring and
grow up at the expense of some other person. Upon
which consideration this thought came into my head,
that nature does not hereby deviate from her general
policy ; for the naturalists hold, that the birth, nou-
rishment, and increase of any one thing is the decay
and corruption of another:
Nam quodcunqiie suis mutatumjimbtis exit,
Continuo hoc mors est iUhiSf quodjuit ajite.f i. e.
For what from its own confines changed doch pass.
Is straight the death of what before it was. '
* Seneca dc Beneficiis, Ub, vi. cap. 38, from whence most of this
chapter is taken,
f Lucret. lib. iii. ver. 752, 753.
«]r CUSTOM AK9 MWi. Mi
CHAPTER XXIL
Of Custom^ and the Difficulty of changing a Law
once received^
xN my opinion^ that person had a veiy ri^ht con«The ferae
ception of the power of custom, who mvented*^***^^^
the fable of the countrywoman,* who having played
with, and carried in her arms, a calf from the very
hour it was cast, and continuing to do so as it grew
up, did, by that custom, gain so much strength, that
though it lived to be a large ox, she still carried iL
For, in truth, custom is a violent, and yet an insi«>
nuating school-mistress ; she estabUshesher authority
over us gradually, and by stealth ; but having by
such a gentle and huvible beginning planted and
fixed it, she immediately unmasks, and shows us
a furious and tyrannic countenance, against which
we hardly dare so much as to lift up our eyes. We
see her at every turn breaking through the laws of
nature ; usus tfficacissimus rerum omnium magister;\
i. e. Custom is the greatest tyrant in nature. I give
credit to the account of Plato's cave in his republic,
and to the custom of the physicians, who so often
resign the reasons of their art to its authority. I
belieye the story of that king, who, by custom, **
brought his stomach to that pass, as to take poison
for its nourishment ; and that of the young woman,
who, Albert reports, was accustomed to live on
poison ; for in the late discovered world of the In^
dies, there were found grieat nations, and in very
difierent dimates, who lived upon them, collected and
* Itis become a kind of proveib, which Petronius has thus ex-
preesed,
— roBere tawnm
Q^a tulerit vUulum Ulapoteit.
You will alto find it among the adages of Erasmus, Chil. L Cent. 2.
Ad. 51.
f FUnjr'sNat. Ifist. lib. un* cq>. 2.
110 6T CtJ&tOM AKD LaW^
fed them for their tables, to they also did griss'
hoppers j mice, lizafds, and bats ; ^And, in dearth of
provisions^ a toad was sold for six crowns ; all which
they dressy and serve. up with various sauces. Ther«
were others also found, to whom the flesh we eat,
and our other provisions were deadly poison. Con"
suetudhiis magna vis est : pernoctantvenatores in nU
H^e : in montwus uri se pafiuntur : pugilts aestibus
contusij ne ingemiscunt quidem ;* i.e. Great is the
power of custom. It makes huntsmen pass whole
nights in the snow, and to suffer themselves in the
day to be parched with heat on the mountains ; and
the prize-nghters, though beat almost to a jelly, not
so much as to utter a single groan. . These foreign
instances will not be thought so strange, if we con-
sider, what we know by common experience, how
much custom dulls our senses. ■ To be satisfied of
this, we need not go to the Nile to be certified of
what is reported of tliose who live near its cataracts;
nor need we discredit \vhat the philosophers think of
the music of the spheres, that the bodies of those cir-
cles being solid and smooth, and happening to touch
and rub one another in their motion, cannot fail to
produce a wonderful harmony, by the quavers and.
changes whereof the revolutions and carols, (i.e.
dances) of the stars are modulated. We are to take
it for granted, that the hearipjg &culty of all crea-
tures here bejow. being stupi&d, like that of the
Egyptians, by the continuance of this sound, cannot
perceive it, how great soever. Smiths, millers, ar-
mourers, and the Kke, cpuld.never be able to live in
the noise of their trades, if it struck their, ears with
the same violence as it does ours. My perfumed
band gratifies my own nostrils at first, but after I
have worn it a little whiles it is only smelt l^y those
who come near me ; but it is yet more strangq that .
custom, notwithstanding the long intermissions and
intervals, should yet have the power to unite ieind'
* Clc4 Tusc Que$ti lib. u. cap. 17#
W tXS6ft6U AKD 1 AW. 1 1 1
estfthUsh tlie effect of its impressions upon our siBn^^
as those cxperienee who live near churches where
tfaefe imaging of beSs. I lie at home in a turret^
where every morning and evening a very great bell
rings Out the Avt Maria j the noise of wnicb shakes
the bed under me, and at first I thought it iii^up*
portable; but a little time made it so familial to me,
that I now hear it without offence^ and often it does
not awaken< me. i . '
Plato having reproved a boy for playing with nuts^ vic« tak<
the child:»id, * You blftme me for a trifle/ Plato i;,^;^ I j;,^^^
replied, * Custom is not such a trij9e.** I observe, >«", and
that our greatest vices are derived from the irtJpres^^^^Vorcto
sion niade on us in our most tender years, and that»>e correct.
we are principally governed by our nurses. The^*//"***"*''
mothers are delighted in seeing a child twist the
neck of a chicken, and diveft itself in hurting a pup-
py or a kitten. And there ai^e such silly fathers in
the world, as think it a happy presage of a warlike
spirit, when they see their sons fall foul on an innd^
cent peasant, or a lackey, that dares not hold up his '
hand in his d^ence. They think it shows a genius
in a lad, when they see him outwitting his play-fellpw
by some unlucky trick or knavery ; yet these are the
true seeds and roots of cruelty, tyranny, and trea^
chery. In these years they bud, and afterwards
sprout up vigorously in the hands of custom ; and it
is a very dangerous error to excuse these vile incli-
nations by the tenderness of years, and the levity
of the subject. In the first place, it is nature that
speaks, the voice of which is tnen more pure and ge-
nuine, as it is younger and more shrill. SeconcUy,
the deformity of cozenage does not depend on the
diffisrence betwixt crown pieces and pins, but merely
upon itself; and I should think it more just to rea-
son thus. Why would he not cheat for a crown, since
• * Diogenes LaertioBy inthelifeofPlatOy lib. iiLsegm. 38; where
he does hot say that the person reproved by Plato was a child, and.
that he played with nuts ; but he sap^ that he played with dice^
which renders Hato's answer of lAuoh more importance.
112 .AF CUSTOM AND LAW.
he does so for g pin ? tban to argue as tli^y do, who
say. He only plays fbrpins ; he would not cheat, if
it was tor money. Cnildreit should be carefiilly
taught to abhor the vices of their own contriviiif ,
and the natural deformity of then ought to be so re^
presented, that they may not only avoid them in
their actions, but to hate them from their hearts^
that the very thought of them may be odious to them^
what mask soever they wear. I know verjr well,
that for my own part, having been trained in my
childhood to walk in a plain op^n path, and having
then entertained an aversion to all manner of tridc^
ing and shuiBing in my childish sports (as it must
be noted, that the pla^s of children are not in jest,
but must be judged or as their most serious actions)^
tliere is no pastime, how trifling soever, wherein I
partake, in which I do not abhor deceit, from my
natural inclination, and without study. I shuf&e
and cut the cards, and keep as strict an account for
a livre, as if it were for a double pistole ; and when
I play in ^ood earnest for a round sum, it is with the
same indifference, whether I win or lose, as when I
play against my wife or daughter. At all times, and
xn all places, my own eyes are a sufficient watch upon
my actions. I am not so narrpwly observed by any
others, nor are there any that I am more cautious of
offending.
Tee^ form. I saw, the othcr day, at my own house, a little fel-
•ffi!!^tf*'*low, a native of Nantes, bom without arm«j who hag
iiaiidt. so well disciplined his feet to perform the services his
hands should have done him, that in reality his feet
have in a great measure forgot their natural office.
Moreover, he calls them his hands ; he cuts with
them, charges and discharges a pistol, threads a
needle, sews, writes, puts off his hat, combs his
head, plays at cards and dice, and all this with a&
much dexterity as any body; and the money I
gave him he c^ried away in his foot as we do in our.
hand.
or CUfiTOH ANB LAW*. US
r knfew' Another, who, -when he was but i( lad^A boy
flourished a fwo*handed sword, and a halbert, mpdy il^i^ ^ou. .
by tht twisting and twining of his neck for want ofri^iiai >
hands, tOMedtheooi.into the sir, and catdied them {^^^''I'Sfe'm^
again; darted a dateer, and cradced a whq> as well|^<*f ^>*
as any Waggoner in France. But the effects of cus«
torn are mudi better discovered, by the strange impress
sion it makes on our minds, where it does not meet
withsomnchresbtaace. 'What has it not the nower to
imtiose upon onr judgment and crediiiity i C)mitting
the gross impostures m religioh, widi which we have
Been so many j^tilous nations, and so many able
men intoxicated (for this being beyond the sphere .
of human reason, an error is more excusable in such
«s are not by the divine fitvour enli^tened in an ex*-
traordinary manner) ; is there any oraiuon so fkntastic,
but there are others as strange, which it has {Wanted
find estaUtshed as laws in whatsoever countries it
thought fit And therefore that mcient exclamation
was exceeding just, Ntm pudet Phystcuniy id est,
s^cuUtorem^ venatoremque Natura ab animis con'
suetudine imbutis quitrere testimonium veritatis f^ Is
it not a shame fiir a natural philosopher, whose busi^
ness it is to investigate and pry into die secrets of
nature, to have reconrse to the pr^udioe of custom
ibf the evidence of truth ?
I reckon, that there is no fancy, how absuni so* Theodd
ever, that can enter into the imamnation of man,^<>»<^
biit it has the example of some pubuc practice, and i ^^ '^
which is a sanction to onr reason. There are people
amongst iriiom it is a fishion to turn their backs
upon the person whom they salute, and not to look
in the &ce of the man whom they mean to honour.
There is a court where, whenever the king spits, the
iady tiiat is his chief Qtvourite holds out her band to
xeoeive it; and another nation, where Ae moA
teminent persons about the soverei^i stpop to die
* Cic de Nst DttorotD^ lib. L caa. SO, trakisl$t«d Iv tbe Abhi ,
4rO]kfeu
VOL. U I
/
Ii4f or cvnou Ain> law#
^ound to trice up his ordure iir a* linen -clothe ' Let
us here slip in k story. A French gentleman* always
blew his nose betwixt his fingers ^a thing very \m-
" &shionatiIe with ns), which he justified^ and being a
man who had wit at will, he asked me what privilege
• ' had this nasty ex(rrement, that wc must carry a piece
of fine linai about us to receive it in ; and not onfy
90S but» moreover, ibid it tip, and carry it catefidly
about iq our pockets, whicn miM be more offensive
than to see it thrown away, as wedo all oor other
evacuations i I thought that what he said was not
altqeether without reason ; and, by being frequently
in his company, custom made! the practice appear not
flo strange, how hideous soever we think it^ when it
is reported of another country. Miracles appear
such, according to our ignorance of nature, and not
laccoitling to the real essence of nature; Custom
blinds the eye of our juc^ment. • We are as much
a wonder to the barbarians, as they are to us, and
,with as much reason, as every one. would acknow-
ledge, if, after having reflected upon these remote
examples, he was citable of reflecting on the exam-
ples'he gives himself of his own customs, and com-
paring them fairly with the exam{des and iisages of.
.other nations. Human nature is a tincture equally
infused into all our opinions and manners, c£ what
form soever they are, infinite in matiter^ infinite in
diversity. To return to my sulqect, there are people
where This wife and children excepted) no one ^peaks
to the king but through a trunk. In one and the
same nations the A^gins discover their secret parts^
and the married women carefully cover and conceal
them. To this a certain custom bears some relation
in another place, where chastity is Only esteemed in
the mairied state, for there the unmarried women
may prostitute themselves to as many as they please,
and, when with cliild, may take medicines publicly
to procure abortion. And in. another place, if a
tradesman marries, all the tradesmen whaare invited
to the wedding lie with the bride before him ; and
the tnore of tht»n there ^e; the greater is lidr honour-
i»nd her character for courage and ability. If an
officer or nobleman mariy, the caie is the same ; and
30 it is with others, except it be a labourinjg man, pir
.aflIB&,iHU^£j?w dejjree jjfo^ then ^ejordof the^
manor perforins the office, an^TyS a^strict ^5ity Is'
Tiyuqunended duniig t^ie state of wecdock. There is
a pl^c^ where m^ are stewed In broihel-houses for.'
the entertainment of the womisn, ilild where, in the
married state, the wives go to the .wa^ as well as
their, husbands, and take rank, hot only in battle,
hoX also in command. In some places they not only,
w^ar rings in their nostrils, lipis, cneeks. ana toes, but.
very weighty ones in their breasts and Duttocks.. Jn\
ot}iers, when they eat, they wipe their fingers upon,
their thighs, their cod-pie^e^ and th^ soleai of their
feet. . In some places tne chudrfsh are not heirs, but
only the brothers and nephews ; and elsewhei^e only
the nephews, saving in the succession to the crown.
'Jliere are ^ome places, where, ibr the regulation of^
the community of goods and, estates observed-in ihe
counti^^ certain sovere^ magistrates have an uni-
versal . commission to cuutvate the lands, and distri^
bute the fruits according to every oh&'s necessity*
In some places they mourn for the death of chiltdfreiij^
and feast at the decease* of old men. In some
places they lie ten or twelve in a bed, men and theii;
wives together. In one country, the women whose
husbands come to an untimely end, may marry
again i others :not In another, the condition ot
women is 90 disliked, that the female is3Ue of their
marriages are , destroyed, and they buy women of
their neighbours for their occasions* In some places
the men may be parted from their wives without
showing any caifse, but not the wives from the hus«
bands K)r any cause whatever. In others the has*
* I fancjT MonHugne took this from Herodotus, lib. v. p. SSO,
-irbere the l^Btoriao 8ay9» that certain people of Thrace weep at. the
bisthi of their jr<^Dg ouldren^ andbury taeir dead with great marks
rf joy*
19
lid 0i 6xisf6A AM tAVfs
b«tt(b ftre ilbwedtosell their wives if tbey dfe bar*
xeiu In others they boil die corpse of the deceased^
and then bruise it till it becomes like a jelly, which
they mix with their wine, and drink. In some
dountties the most d^siri^fe sepulture is to be eaten
by dogSy^ and elsewhere by birds. It is the opiniiHi,
in some places, that the souls of the haqppy lire in all
. manner of liberty, in pleasant fields, furnished with
all manner of conveniences, and tlutt the echoes we
Hear come from theili. In others they %ht in the
water, and shoot their arrows with success while
tStey are swimming. In others they signify their
sutgeetion by lifting vp ^eir shoulders, and hanging
down their heads, and put off their shoes when they
totet ihe jEhig's palace. The eunuchs in one place
jiiio have chiu^ ci the nnns^ have moreover their
noses and 1ms cut off, that they may be the less
amiaUe; and ^diere the priests put out their own
eyes, to get acquaintance with tiiehr daemons, and re*
ceive the drades. In some places every one creates
a &dty out of what he pleases ; the huntsman deifies
a Hon, or a fax, ; the fimerman, some fish or other |
^d they make idols of «very human action or pas*
sion. The sun, the moon, and the earth are the
nrindpal deities ; and the form of taking an oath is
to touch the earth, with the eyes lifted up to the
son ; and there they eat both flesh and nsh raw.
There is a place where the most solemn oath ist to
^ear by me name of some deceased person who
WiAs of eminence m the country, laying tne hand at
the same time on his tomb. In some places the
ncw-year^s gift which the king sends to the princes
his vassals, is fire^ which being brought, all the old
fire is put out, and this new fire bH the neighbouring
people are obliged to fetch every one for themselves,
updn psdn of incurring the guilt and punishment of
high treason. In another place, when the king re*
• Sextus Empificns, Pyrrh. HypoL lib. iiL cap. 24, p. 157.
t Herodot hb. iv. p. 318. Mymphadarus, lib. xiii. Rerum Bar*
baricarom*
or CUSTOM AKB LAW. 117
tires fioni his admimstratieiiy purely to devote hiia-
sdf to religkm (wliicJi often happeiis), his next suc«
cessor is obliged to do the sfiaie} by which means the
right of the govenuneot deviriives to the third poscm
in the successtcm. In some^jplaoes the form of p^
vemment is vwied aeccMrding^the ex^n^ of affiurs •
They depose the king when they think fit, substitute
ing the elders ijf the people to tiie h^hn of gov^em-
ment, and sometinies th^ tnuMfer it to the hands
of the commonalty. In some parts the men and
women are both eircimicised, ana also bisptized. In
others ^e soldier, who in one or several ei^i^pe^
ments has 'happened to bring seven of the enemas
heads to the Icmff, is made noble. In some eountnes
they entertain the singular and uftsodable opitnon
that the soul is mortals In othafs^ the women are
deUvered of children without any complaint or i»a&
In some jilaees they wear capper boots upon both
1^8, and if a louse bites them,* they are bound by
the obligation of magnanimilr, to bite that l^use
again : and dare not marry^ till they have &st made
a tender of liieir virginity. In other places the com*
m<m way of salutation is, by touching the earth with
a finger, and thai pointing it up towards heaven.
Some p^ces there are where llie men carry burdens
upon tneir heads, and women upon their shoulders ;t
and where the women piss standing, and the men
eouching down : where they send drops of their
blood in token of fijendsbip^ and pay tne same in*
cense to the men they woura honour, as to the gods:
where kindred are not allowed to many, not omy to
the fourth, but to any remoter degree of nSmty*.
where the diildren are kept four years at nurse, and
often twelve; where it is also accounted mortal to
EVe the infi^ts the breast on the first day after it is
>m : v^ere the correction of the male children is
the peculiar province of the fitthers, and that of the
females the sole prerogative of the mothers, the
« Herod. lib. W. 317. Nicot t^ULp.S2«
11^ . Of CUSTOM ANO LAW. >
puniBhrnent ^being to suspend them by the heets hr
the smoke. In some places they actually circumcise
the women, Vnd eit aM sorts of herbs, without
scrupling any but such bs hav^ a bad smell. In
soihe, aff places are open'i and Aeir finest houses with
the richest furniture; are without doors, windows, or
chests, the punishment inflicted c»i thieves bemg
double to ^nat it is elsewere. In some places they
crack l$ce with their teeth like monkeys, and abhor
killiuj^ theni with th6}r nails. Itt some places they
never cut their hair, nor psire Uieir nails; and in
others they park those of the rig:hC hand oidy, letting
those of thie left grow fi>r ornament i «id suiffer the
hair on the right side to grow as long as it will,
while diey keep the othdp side shlEtved ;* and in the
neighbourhig pr6vii^ces some let their hair grow
long before, as others do that behind, and shave the
rest close. In soirte places thfe parents let out their
children, and husbahds their wives, to their guests for
hire. Others there are, where men may get their
own mothers with child, and ftttherft make use of their
own daughters^, or of their sons, without aity scandal
or oflfenee. In others they interchangeably lend
, their children to one another at their festivals!; with^
out any consideration bf' proximity of blood. In
<Mie place men feed upon human flesh ; in another,
it is reckoned a charitable office for a man to kill iiis
father at a certain age;t and els&i\4)ere the fathers
appoint the children, whilst yet in their mother's
womb, some to be preserved, and carefially brought
up, and others to be abandoned; an^ killed.' EJse-.
where the old husbands lend their wives' to young
men ) and in other phtces they are in common witlw
out ofieik^e; nay, there is a country where the
women wear, as a mark of honour, as manyfiingecl
tassals to their gowns as they have enjoyed meu.t
Moreover^ ha^ not custom made a republic of wo»
♦ Herodot lib. hr. p. 324.
t Scxtus Empyricusji P^Trh. Hypot. lib. Hi. cap. 24, p. 153.
X Herodot. Itkiv.p. 319.
09 CUSTOM AK0LAW«* llS:
tneif, separately by theit^elves ? Has it not pai ahm *
into their hand^? made them to raise araries, «Qd
%ht batdes ? md does it not^ by its single peoept,
instruct thc^ most ignorant vu^ar in things which all
the philosophy in -rae wwld could-nerer beat into the
heads of the wisest inehf* ^For we ioiow ^itire na^
tions, where deal^ was not only despised, but
h6tfrt% . welcomed ; where childrcaai of seven years: ^ •
oki sumred theiDMelves even to be wh^pedt^dea;^
without changing their countenance ?t where riches*
were held in su<lfc contempt, that the meanest sub-*
ject would ^not have deigned^to sto^ to take up a
^urse of crown ptecas* And .wie kncyw countries/
vety finitful in all maimer, of provisions, where the , . • >
mosi common * diet,, and yet wlat they .are most
pleased with, was only bread, cresses, and wtier4
Was it not custom also that worked tlut. xnirade in
Chios, ^^t in 700 years it was never remembered,
that dther maid or wife dki any thing to stain their
honoar^§ To condnde, thae is nothings in my.
pinion, which jcuston does not^ or is not capable ^
doing; and therefore Pindar justly caUs it, the.
'' Qoeen and the £m{»ess of the World.|i" He that
was i reproved for beatiw his &ther made anaw&»
that it was the custom or has fiunily^ that hi9 &ther
had in iike manner beaten his grand-father ; hi&grandt
Either, his greal^grand-fether ; and, then pointing to
him, this son or mme will, beat me also, when he
Gome» to my age, And. the Either, whom the son
djrag|ged> along the street; bid him to stop. at a ceiw
tain door, becmnse he himself, had draped his &ther
no fiirther, that beings the utmost limit of die.here*
ditmry insofenc^ with whi^ the sons used to treat
* ThiB Thracians, Valer. Mtfximus, lib, ii. ch. 6, sect; 12,
f At Lecedaraxm.
*. X In FeaitLf m die. veign of Cyrus, Xeoophop*^ Cyroiwedia, Jib* L
cap. 8. and IL Oxford edit^l703. . .
9 I^utarchy in his Treatise oTtlieTiiiuoiu Behaviour of Woinen,
in the article of those of Chios.
g Herodotus, lib. iii. p. 20a
1 jRX OF CUSTOM AXD UM.
iHtkt fathecs in their hdafy* It k n imich from ci»
torn, says Aratotie^ as fron isfinni^^ thatwDmai
tear ihetr faair^ Ixte tkeir natb, cat coals aod ch«lk$
and mncfa more from cuslam tkan natare^ that men
ashttso tiiemMlvca with one another.
Tke of?Kiii The lamrs of oonseiencey ifdUeh wn pretend to bo
^c^^b!^!!* destined from aatore, pracoed from custom i every
•ace. nma havings an intcaptiiil veneration for the opInkNii
and atManem approvRed and received amoiq^t his
oouhtrymeu^ cannot depart from them without re*
liiCtanoe» nor adhere to them^ without approbation.
HnwiMpe. When tim people of Crete,, in times past, had a
j^^J'^^msnd to curse aa^ one, thev prajed the gods to en«>
«|*<«>^ gB9B them in some e^ hMstt But the prtncipil
eroct of the pownr of custom, is to seiae and ea*
tangle us in suqh a manner, that it is hardly in our
power to disengage oursdves from its ^rqpe, or so to
recover ourselves, as to reason and discourse upon
what it eii|oim« Tosa^thetrudi, because we sudik
in with our mother's milk, and the free of the worid
ilreseats itself in this posture to our first sight, it
aeems as if we were bom upon condition of punRung
ijimi very course^ and the ooafunon frmcies that lire
find in repute everywhere round us, atid which wo
imbibe in our innncy, appeaa to be genuine and
natural. From beace it appears, that whatever does
not torn on the hinge of custom, is thought to be oflF
of the Innffes of reuon, thof^;h, God knows, ho«t
nttfeasonmy fi>r the most part If, as we, who atady
eurselvea, have learned to do, every one who hears a
just sentence, would immediateiy ooosider how it
may any way a£fect himself^ every one woidd find,
tiiat it wns not so much a ^qod Si^ng, as a severe
lash to the ordinary stupidity of ms own iudgment.
Biit men receive the admonition pf truth, and its
precepts, as addressed to the vulgar Only, and never
to themselves ; and instead of applying them to their
own behaviour, every one is content with commit*
^ Vider. Maxim. lib« viL in extsniii^ lect 15.^
OW CQSTOM AVD LAW« ISl
ting them to memnry^ very absurdly and unprofit*
ably. Return we ifem tathe tyranny of custom.
Feople that h«re been bred up to liber^, and to be ETeryt».
their own masters, look upon every other system of ||^^|^|[i;
government to be monstrous, and ocmtrary to nature, that sort of
%iose who are inured to monarchy do the same j and |^7il^idi
though fortime may give them ever so favduirable itbiMcdtii.
an opportunity of Altering it, even when they have
with the greatest difficulty disengaged themselves
£roiir the troublesome sway of one master, th^ hasten
with like difficulties to place another in his room, so
Ibnd are <bey of the sufc^ectian they have been ac-
customed to.
It is owing to custom, that every one is pleased wb^r cvt^r
with the spot in whi<3i he was slanted by nature ; ^^^
vid the Highlanders of Scotlana* pant no more for witbUiM*
the fine air of Touraine, than the Scythians do for ll!^'^'^
the delightful fields of Thessaly.
Darius asking the Greeks what they would take ApropoMi
to follow the custom of th^ Indians,! in eating the ^^"^
bodies of their deceased parents ? (for diat was their andGreeu,
-jpractiee, as believing they could not nve them a^"^
petter sepulture than in their own bodies) they made
answer, that thev would not do it for any thing in
thb world: but naving also tried to persuade the
Indians to leave off their custom, and to bum the
bodies of their parents, after the manner of the
Gxedcs, they conceived a^till greater horror at the
idea. Every one does the same ; for custom veils
the true aspect of things from our eyes :
Ntt ai$o magmtm^ nee iem miralite qukquam
Ffmapioymidwm mimmU mmtrier 4>fnnes
Paulaiim.l
* These are an ignorant people, who are said to live only upon
rapfaie. ' They who know nothing of the country, need oiJy tead
Froisaart, toC ii« cap. 160, 169, and 174^ and they will percehre why
Montaigi|9 aets Touraine in iqiiKMition to thenu
t Herodotuf, lib. iii.p. 200. Aa to the custom of the Indiana
eating the bodies of their dead parents, see Sextus Empyricus P^rrlu
Hypot. lib. iiL cap. 24, p. 15Z.
X Lttcret. lib* Ik TSr. 10S7*
H3 OP CUSTOM AND LAW.
Nothing at Ant m great^or strange tppeats.
But grows fan^jUjMtf in micc^ilg yean
Taking upon me once to justify an observation
which was received with absolute authority round us
for a great many leagues, and being tiot content, as
people commonly are, to establish it 6nly by force of
laws and examples ; biit inauiring stiH forther into
its origin, I perceived the? roundatidn so weak, that
I, who strove to confirm it in ortiers, was very near
being dissatisfied with it- myself. It is by this recipe
that Plato* utidertafces to eradicate the unnatural
' arid preposterous anfeurs of his time, which he* es-'
teems the sovereign and principiii remedy, viz. That
flie public opinion condemns them ; that the poets,
aiid all other writers, ' relate" sad stories of them. A
fecipe, by the virtue of whi(*h the most beautifuf
daughters no .longer aSlure their father's lusts, nor
brothers of the finest shape the-desire of their sisters;
the very fables of Thyestes, CEdipus, and M acareus^
having with the harmony of their song infused this
wholesofne belief into the tender brains of infants;
Chastity is in truth an amiable virtue, the utility of
which is sufRciently known; but to manage and set
it off according to nature^ is as difficult, as it is easy
to do it accoitiing to custom, laws, arid precepts.
The scrutiny into the fundameiital and universal
reasons is difficult; and* our masters, by skimming
lightly over them, or riot daring so much as to grope
for them, precipitate themselves at first daSh into uie
privilege of^ custom, in which they pride, themselves
and triumph. They who will' not sufffer themselves
to be drawn from this original, commit an error still
greater, and submit themselves to wild opinions;
witness Chrysippus,t who, in so many of his writings,
has shown the ridiculous light in which he looked
upon incestuous conjunctions of what nature so-
ever. .
• De LegibuRy lib. viii. p. 646. .
f Sextufi EmpyricuSy Pjn*h. Hypot. lib. i. cap. 14, p. 31. .
OF CUSTOM Am) LAW.* IStS
"Whoever would disengage iiimself £rom tMs ^o^'cuiMitht
lent prgudice rf enstom, wiH find mstiy things re-^J^jf^^JJ"
ceived witboot scniffle, wiAdK have no real. fiiunda^AMuiy
tion In nature ; but when this. mask is taken ofl^ AndjJ^SS^
things referred to die decision of truth and reasonyio the
he will find his jnclgment, as it were, quite' over- ''*'**■
thrown, and yet restored to a state much more sure.*
For example, I would then ask him, what can be'
more strange than to see people obliged to obey laws:
which they never miderstood, and to be bound inr
iedl their domestic affiurs, marriaces^ grants, wiUa^
sales, and purchases, to rules which they: cannot poa-:
sibl^ know, being neither written nor> published in
their own language, and of which they must neees*
sarily pay for the interpretaticm and uses ; not ac
cording to the ingenious sentiment of Socrates, .who
advised his king to make the traffic and negotiation
of his subjects free and lucrative to them, and to
charge their quarrels and debates with heavy taxes.;
but by a monstrous opinion to make a traffic of rea- .
son itself, and to make the laws . as <;urFent as mer*
chandise. I think mj^elf obliged to fortune that
(as our historians say) it was a Gascon gentleman^ a
countryman of mine, that was the first that opposed
Charlemagne, when he attempted to impose Latin
and imperial laws on us.
What sight can there be more savage, than to seeTHe iocwk
a nation,^ where custom has made it kwftil to wU^^^jJ^^
the office of a judge, and to buy sentences with ready twrow «-
money, and where justice is legally denied to the i^jtli^
party who has not wherewithal to pay for it; and
where this merchandise is in so great credit^ as to
form a fourth estate in the government, viz. of
lawyers, to be added to the three ancient ones <^the
church, the nobility, imd the people; which fourth
estate, having the lawis in their hands, and the sove-
reign power over men^s lives and fortunes, forms la
* France, where this disorder lias even mcresaed since Monta^e^
ttme, 8ndwtiereicisliketolfl0taslongasiheni«narGh]ritiietl^
184 or CUSTOM AND LAW«
body sejmmte fiom the nobility. From hencfe it
oomes to pass, that there are double laws, tl^ae of
honour, and those of justioe, in nianv tlnqgs directly
opposite to one another; the nobtes as rigoronsly
condemning a lie su&red, as the others do a 1&& re«
venged. By the martial law of arms, he who puts
up an afiront, shall be denaded fit>m all nobiliiy and
honour; and by the civil law, he who takes revenge,
in<iurs a capital punidunent He who has recourse
to the laws to obtain satiafiusdoa for an injury done
to his honour, diamces himself} and he who does
not, is punished oy the laws: and of these two
branches, so different, yet bodi of them reftniqgto
one head, those have the care of peace, these of
war} those the profit, these the honour} those wis-
dom, these virtue; those the privilege of speech,
. these of action} those justice, these valour; those
reason, these force; those the long robe, these the
short one.
Thefsutti. As for matters of indiffisrence, such 'as apparel,
^1^1^ where is the person who is for reducing it to its true *
d'n*. use, which is the service and convenience of the
body, upon which its original grace and decency de«;
Eend« Among the most whimsical that I think can \
e invented, I will menticm our square caps, that
long tail of tvdsted velvet which hangs down firoin
our women's heads with its whimsical trinkets, and
that idle bauUe of a .model of a member, we cannot
in modesty so much as mention, and which, never«
theless, we make public parade with.
Aston. These considerations, however, will not prevail
IveT^un .upon any man of understanding to decline the com*.
of good mon mode : though I cannot help thinking, that all
7J^^ singular and far*fetched fiishions are rather marlu of
tihh'^'^ folly and vain affectation, than of right reason ; and
o^ couD-^l^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ ought in his own mind to retire
from the crowd, and tliere keqp his soul at liberty,
and in vigour to judge freely or things, while never-
theless, as to outward appearance, hie ought entiirely
to coidS^rm to the fiishions and forms of the time.
Of CUSTOM Asm LAWi> 1S5
Public society has nothing to do vntk our private
opinions; but as £)r the rest, namely, our actions,
our labour, oar Hves, and fortunes, they must be
bent and devoted to tbe public service, and to tb^
i»immon opinions ; as the |;reat and good Socrates
reused to save his life b^ disobedience to tiie magis«
tiate, tiiou^ a very uigust and wicked one: for it
is the rule of rules, and the general law of all laws,
that every person should observe those of the place
where he is :
^w-'-'^*''
Proceed we now to another topic. It is a matter whctiMr a
of great doubt whether there is more profit than^Ji^l^^*
harm in ehangins a law that has. been once received, ^^ <>»<
be it what it will; forasmuch as a system of govern*' ^^H^'SSoi
ment is like to a building of divers parts, so jcnned ^yj^
together, that it is impossiUe to stir or shake any of^"***^
them without affecting the rest The legislator of
the Thurians made an order,t that whoever offered
to abolish any of the old laws, or to establish a new
one, should come before the people with a halter
about his neck, to the end that, if the innovation
was not unanimously approved, he should be stran«
gled on the spot. And that of Lacedasmon,): made
it tht business of his life to get a fidthful promise
fitrni his citizens, that th^ would not infiii^ any
of his ordinances. The Epfaorus,^ who so rudely
cut the two strings which Phrvnis had added to
music, never stood to examine whether that addition
made a better harmony; it was enough for him to
condemn tiie invention, because it was an alteratio4
of ihe old composition : which also is the meaning
of Ihte old rusty sword of justice carried before the
magistracy of MarseiUes. For my part, I have an
• ta fixcetptioOnitianu, p. S97«
t Cliatondai,mDk>don]iof Sicfly»lib.zii. C.4.
% Lvcurgui. See his Life bv Plutarch, ch. 21.
9 Plutarch, in his Notable Sayings of the Lacedflemonians, calk
thiiEphoms, Emerepea V|^, Max. lib; iL ciqp. 6^ sect ?•
1-- /
ISBS or cesnteu AtrD tAw.
aversion to novelty of whaticomplexion soever^ atul
have reason, having be to an aye-witness of its mifrr
cSiievouff comequeaces. . 13ie innovalRm.which has
fcrsomany years oppressed tfaiS) kingdom (France)
has not indeed directly done all the mischief it has^
sufiei^d^ but it may be said, vrith some colour of
reason^ that it has acddentaUj finnentbd and, pro-
duced, all the wHa and distresses that are since
eontinned:
Heu ! patior telU vulnera facta meis.^ i. c.
Alas! the wounds hy which I srosrty
My own sharp weapons did impart*
( They who. give a shock to a states are ready to be.
/ - */ ^the first who are swallowed up in its ruin. The fruits
of a public commotion are seldom eiyojred by the
• ^ person .who fomented it* H^ only custurba the
water ior. others to catch the fish. The unity and
contexture of inonarchy^ in this great structure,
having been remarkably broken and dissolved in ita
old age, by this innovation, has made way for the en-
trance of the like injuries. The royal miyesty does
not easily sink from the summit to the middle, but
tumbles headlong from the middle to the foundation.
But if the inventors do the most mischief, the imita^
tors are the more crin^iipal to follow examples, of
which they have f^lt the evil : and if there be any
degree of horror, even in doin^ ill, the latter owe to
the former the glory of inventing, and the courage
of making the first effort^ New disorders of all
kinds derive ideas and precedents for disturbing our
government from this original and plentiful source.
We read in oi^r very laws made for the remedy of
this orimitive evil, the first essays of bad enterprises
of ail kinds, and the excuse made for them. And
what Thucydides says of the civil wars in his tilne»
is applicable to us, that, to palliate public vices,, their
true names are sophisticated and soflened by new
* Ovid, in Epist. of Fhillis to Demophoon, ver. iS.
M COSf OH Aim LAW/ K7
oitts, which are not so* harsh. It is intended, hdw*'
ever; to r^Mrm our consciences and opinions. Ha^
netta ormtw ^t :* i* e. *^ It is a fdaiisible speech ;"
but the best plea for innovation is very dangerous!
and, to speak my thoughts with freedom, Jt:seenis tor
me fo b^'graatrseif-leve'tand presuinption in a man,
to set such a vtalpe upon his own. c^inions, that the
public peace nniBt absolutely be.destroyed to establish
them, and a multitude of inevitable evils introduced
into his : own country, together with so^ dreadful a
corruption of manners as a civil war, and the charges^
on the stat^ in a matter of such consequence, always
brings:init^ train. Is it not bad management to set
up so>many certain and palpable vices against errors
that are doubtful and disputable? Are there any
views worse than these committed against a man's
own conscience, and the natural light of his own
reason ? *Tbe senate, upon its dispute with.the people
concerning the administration of their religion, pre-
sumed to make use of this evasive argument,t ^i/
J>eoi id magisquam ad se pertinere ; ipsos visuras^
ne sacra sua poiiudniur :. i. e. ^^ That this affiiir was
f^ not SO' much their concern as that of the gods^
^ who would themsdves take care that their saesed
^^ mysteries were not polluted }" aiwotdtng to the
article which the orade returned td those of Delphos,'
who, in the Median war, dreadhig an invasion from
the Persians^ : enquired: of Apollo what they should
do with the sacral treasure of his temple, whether
they should hide it,' or carry it elsewhere. To which
the God returned for answer, " That they should
^^ not remove any thing,' but only take care of them-
*^ sreives, forasmuch ad he was sufficient to take care
^ of his own properly."* The Christian religion
* Terence, Andr. act 1, sc. 1, vcr. 104-.
f ' Tit LiY. lib. X, ch. 6. The application which Montaigne her^
inam, of thete words of Livy, agrees by no means with the con-
atniction they bear in that historian, as all who win be at the trouble
to coastdt him may perceiye.
^ % Herodot. lib. viiL p. 589,540.
128 iur CUSTOM AVOIAWW;
bean idl tbe marks of jiiaticie and utfltty in an ex*
treme degree, but ncme snore maai&st than the
strict .recommendation of obedience to magiitrat«,
and the maintenance of the police. What a mar*
velloiis instance of this has the lAvine Wisdom left iis»
who, in establishing the salvation of mankindv andin
conductipg this his riorious victwy over de»th and
sin, chose to do it ondjr in conformity to our pditical
govenunent, and submitted bis prc^gress, and the
conduct of so sublime and salutimrous an opemtiout
to the blindness and injustice of our observations
and customs; sufl^ng the innocent Uood of so
many of bis chosen &vourites to be shed^ and bear«
ing with the loas of such a number of yean> to tbe
maturing of this inestimable fruit? There is a wide
difference between the case of one who coa»]ies with
the forms and laws of his country, and « another
that undertakes to regukte and dumge thekiL The
first pleads in hia excuse simplicity, obedience, and
example, so that whatever he does, it cannot be im»
puted to malice, but at the worst to misfortune*
Quis est enint^ quern nan maveBt clmissinns wmmmen^
tis teitata^ eansignataque amtifuiiaif^ i. e. *^ Who is
^ there that is not toudied with respect for antiquity,
«« sealed and confirmed by the most illustrious testi«>
^^ monies ?'' Besides what Isocrates says, tiiat de&
dency is more a sharer in moderaticm tlnn exceasf
the last is a track much more rugged :t for he who
busies himself to choose and alter,u8urps the authority
of judging, and must take it upon hiniself to discover
* Cicevo At Divinadoae, Kb* i. cL 40.
t AU that Mows from the words, <«he who inttiet hioMir/* ta
ihe passage from Cicero indusiTdyt endiog tboSp ** not by Zen^
** CleantheSy nor Chr3r8ippu8,*' is not to be found in the folio edition
by Abel Angelier, printed at Paris in 1595, three years after Uie
death of our author; nor in another folio edition printed at Fkris, bj
Alitehael Bhigeant, in 164a I leave it to the reader to jndge^ wbe-
tber this addition be Montaigne's or not; but I tbmufat mjuU
oblieed to insert it in this edition, because I npt only fial[i^ in the
edition printed at Paris since 1640, but in one Wint^ at Layde^
in 1689.
OP CtJSfOM AKt> t.AW« 129
the defect of what he is fbr removing, and the be-
nefit of what he is about to introduce. This consi-
deration, however vulgar, is that which fixed me in
my seat, and kept the rein Upon even the rashest
part of my youtlp, so as not to burden my shoulders
with so dead a weight, as to render myself responsi-
ble for a scieniceof such importance, and to presume
in that state to. do what in iny more mature judg-
ment I durst not attempt in the most easy thing I had
ever learned, and wherein the rashness of judging
does no harm, it seeming to me very unjust to go
about to subject public and established customs and
institutions to the. weakness and instability of private
&&cy (for private reason has only a private jurisdic-
tion;, and to make that encroachment upon divine
laws, which no government woidd sufier upon the
civil laws ; with which the human reason has much
more concern. than with the former; yet are they
sovereignly judged by their own proper judges ; and
the utmost sufficiency serves only to explain and ex-
tend the custom derived from it^ and not to divert,
nor make any innovation in it. If sometimes the
divine Providence has suspended the rules to which
it has necessarily restrained us, it is not to give us a
dispensation from them* These are only strokes of
the divine hand, whidi we must not imitate, but ad-
mire^ and extraordinary examples that purposely and
particularly prove the kind of miracles which it
offers us for a manifestation of its almighty dower,
above our rules and capacity, which it were folly and
impiety to attempt to imitate, and which we ought
not to follow, but to contemplate with astonishment ;
they being acts peculiar to the essence of him by
whom they are performed,* and not personal to us.
Gotta declares very opportunely, when matters of re-
ligion are the subject, 1 hearken to T. Coruncanus,
P. Scipio, P. Scaevola, the high priests ; but I give
no ear to Zeno, Cleanthes, or Ch^sippus.* In our
* Cic. de Natura Dflonun, lU^ iii. cap. 3.
VOL, I. K
180 Ol^ CUSTOM AK0 tAVr.
present quarrel^ where there are a hundred articles
to he .struck out and put in, articles that are also of
very ^reat importance, God knows, Kow many there
are ymo can boast of their having nicely understood
the grounds and reasons of both tha parties. It is a
number, if it amounts to a number, that would not
be very able to disturb us. But what becomes of all
the rest of the "posse ? Under what ensigns do they
rank ? The case is the same with them as with other .
weak and ill-applied medicines, whereby the humours
they are designed to purge off, are only fermented^
exasperated, and inflamed ii\ the conflict, and left
still behind. The medicine was too weak to purge
us, but strong enough to weaken us, so that we can-
not get lid of it, and receive no eflfect from its opera-
tion, but inward pains of long duration.
incunof So it is, nevcrtfidess, that fortune, say what we
TCcessity will, prcscnts us sometimes with a neceasity so
^^ °'J , , urgent, that it is requisite the laws should ghre place
give way to it : aud whcrc opposition is made to the increase
^MionT ^^ *^ innovation which intrudes itself by violence,
' for a man to keep himself in all places and thinm
within bounds and rules against these who are at fml
liberty to do what they list, and to whom all things
are lawful that may serve to advance their design,
and who have ho other law nor rule but to pursue
their own advantage, is a dangerous obligation «id
inequality:
AtdUum nocendi perfido preBstai Jtdes.^
Tlic naked truth does her fair breast disarm.
And gives to treacherj a power to harm.
Forasmuch as the ordinary discipline of a healthful
. state does not provide against these extraordinary
accidents, it presupposes a body that supports itsefr
in its principal members and oflBcers, and a common
'consent to its obedience and observation. To pro-
ceed, according to law, is a cold and constrained
work, and not fit to make head against a licentious
* S«ae€. in CEdip. a^t m. ver. 698.
bit CtJSTOM A2n> lAWi tBl
iind unbridled proceeding. Those greac personages,
Odtavius and Cato; in the two divil wars of Syllaand
Caesar, are to this day reproached, that they chose to
let their country suffer the last extremities, rather than
to relieve it at the expense of its laws^ or ta make
any stir. For, in truth, ill these last necessities^
wherein there is no remedy, it would, perhaps, be
more discreet to stoop and yield a little to receive
the blow, than by opposing, without any possibility of
doing good, make way for violence to trample every
thing under foot i and it were better to make tlid
laws do what they can^ since they cannot do what
they would. After this manner did he who sus-
pended them for twenty-four hours ; and he who for
once shifted a day in the calendar ; and that other,
viz. AlexsLnder the Great,* who in the month of June
made a second May. The Lacedasmdhians them-
selves, religious observers as they were of the laws
of their country, being straiteped by their own law,
which prohibited the choosing of the samig man to
be admiral twice i and on the other hand, their af^
£iirs necessarily requiring that Lysander should fill
that office again, they made one Aracus admiral, it ia
true, but withal Lysander was superintendant of the
marine.t By the same policy, one of their ambassa^
dors being sent to the Athenians to obtain the altera*-
tion of some decree, and Pericles remonstrating to
him that it was forbid to take away the tablet, or je^
gister wherein a law had been engrossed, advised him
only to turn it over, forasmuch as this was not pro-^
hibited.t And Plutarch commends Philopa^men,
that while bom to command, he knew not only how!
to command according to the laws, but also to over«
rule the laws themselves,^ when the public neces^
3ity req^uired it.
* See his Life by Plntarch^ in dhap. S o( Amyot's TrUxulation.
f Plutarch in the Life of Lysander, cap. 4.
i Idem, in the Life of Pisriclesv cap. 18.
§ In the comparison of Titus Quintus Flaminius with Philopflemen^
towards theenui
k2
152 DIFFEBENT EVENTS
CHAPTER XXIIL
Different Events from the same Counsel.
James AMYOTT,* great almoner of France,
gave me this history one day, to the honour of a
prince of ours (who, though of foreign extraction,
was ours in very deed), that in the time of our first
troubles, at the siege of Roan, that prince being ad-
vertised hy the queen (mother to the kin^) of a plot
that was formed against his life, and being particu-
laHy informed by his letters who was to be the chief
conductor of it, viz. a gentleman of Anjou, or
Maine, who at that time commonly came to the
prince's palace for the purpose, he did not communi-
cate his mtelligerice to any person in the whole world,
biit goingV the next day, to St. Catherine's mount,
where was our battery against Roan ^which we at
that time lai^ siege to) attended by tne said great
alnioner, )uid another bishop, he took notice of this
very gentleman, who had been described to him, and
sent for him. When he came before him, the prince
finding him pale, and trembling with the conscious-^
ftess of his guilt, he said to him, " Mr. — — you
** mistrust, I find, what I have to say to you, and your
<< very countenance shows it ; it is in vain to think
•* of hiding any thing fi-ora me, for I am so well in-
** formed of your business, that you will only make
**j bad worse, by an attempt to conceal it ; you very
** well know, such a thing and such a thing, whicn
** Were the links and limits to the most secret parts
** in the plot ; and therefi)re, as you value your
** life, do not fail to confess the truth of the whole
" design to me." When the poor man found he was
fVtected (for the whole affair had been discovered to
the queen by one of the accomplices), he had
* The celebrated tranftlator of Plutarch.
FROM THE SAME COUNSEL* 1S3
Tiothirig to do, but with folded hands was going to
throw himself at the feet of the prince to iipplore his
mercy and forgiveness; but the prince prevented
him, and proceeded to ask him as follows : " Pray,
** did I ever do any thing to disoblige you ? Have I,
•* from, any particular spite, offended any that be-
" longed to you ? It is not above three weeks that I
** have known you; what inducement could you have
*' to aim at my life ?" To this the gentleman an-
swered, with a faltering voice, " That he had no par.-
** ticular reason for it, but the interest of the cause
" of his party in general ; and that he had been per-
" suaded by some of them, that it would be a very
** pious act to extirpate so powerful an enemy to
** their reli^on by any means whatsoever/* " Well," Extmor.
said the pnnce, " I will now let you see how much i*"*c7of •
^^ more amiable is the religion I maintain than that pnnce to
" which you profess ; yours has .advised you to mur- hUdpiStted
*' der me without giving me a hearing, and without tokuihim.
cc
u
you wouia nave iullea me without any reason. / /
Get you from hence instantly, and let me see you
no more here; and if you are wise, choose honester
men to be of your counsel in future designs."
The emperor Augustus, being in Gaul, had cer- a pioc «.
tain intelligence of a conspiracy which was formed ^J^^^^^"-
against him by Lucius Cinna, for which he resolved wiuch'iw
to make an example of him ;• and, for that purpose, ^^^^
summoned a council of his friends to meet him next wm ripe
day ; but the night preceding he was very uneasy in [fJat***** '
his mind to think t^at he was going to put to death
a young gentleman of a good family, nephew to
Pompey the Great, which made him break out into
these complaints, " What ! shall it be said that I live
^' in terror and alarm, and sufier my assassin to walk
^^ abroad at bis full liberty? Shall he go unpunished,
* See Seneca, in his Treatiae of Clemency^ lib. i. cap. 9, from
whence the whole Btory is here tran9cribed verbatim.
1»4 DIFFERENT EVENTS
^ after having conspired against my life ; a Efe which
<* I have hitherto defended in so many civil wars,
" and so many battles both by land and sea, and
^* after I had establislied universal jpeace in the
<* world ? Shall the man be pardoned after he had
•* determined not only to murder, but to sacrifice
<* Bje ?** For the plot was laid to kill him while he
•W3S assisting in some sacrifice. After this he re-
mained for some time sileiit, but t^eii he began
again, in a louder note, to exclaim against himself^
saying, " Why livest thou, if it be a thing of
^ 8U(m importance to so* many people that tfcou
^* shouldst die ? Will there be no end to tlwr revenge
" and cruelty? Is thy life of so much wortn, that sq
** much mischief mpst be done to preserve it T'
|iu wiffe Livia, his wife, perceiving him in this perplexity,
>'via|i^-H Will you for once,** said she, '" be jwivised by a
^^ "" woman? Imitate the physicians who, when com^
** mon remedies do no good, make trial of the com
** trary. You have not done yourself any good hi-
^* therto by your severity.' Lepidus has followed Sa-
^videnusj Murena, Lepidus; Caepio, Murenaj
^ Ignatius, Caepio. Begin now and try how lenity
f^ and clemency will succeed. Ginna is found guilty,
** palrdon him -, it will be out of his power to hurt
" thee hereafter, and such forgiveness will redound
^^ to thy honour,"
Alwattvs Augustus, very glad that he had met with an ad-
Mv'^'j^vocate of his own humour, thanl^ed his wife; and
na]|n\ dismissiug his fiiends whoin he had summoned to
^^]^^jj^^ council, ordered that Cinna should be brought to
chief or ^e him alone ; which being done, lie commanded every
coiupir». ^^^ out of the room, and when hew^s, by his ap-i
^intment, seated iA a chair,* he spoke to him after
♦ This circumstance, expressly noted by Seneca, is not imma-
terialy because it shcms us the manners of diat age ; ^md therefore
I think that the celebrated Corneille did well to make use of it in his
^agedy of Cinna, A king who should think it derogatory to his
royalty ever to see his subjects sitting in ^ his presence, wduld Have
\mt a vcr^ diminutive idea of ^ndeur, which does not depend oq
VROM THB SAME COUKSEL. 135
this xnanner; ^^ In the first place, Ciiinft, I desire
*^ you would hear me patiently ; do not interrupt me
*^ while I am speaking, after which I will give thetf .
** time and leisure to answer me. Thou knowest, Cin-
^^ na, that having taken thee prisoner in the enemy's
*^ camp, when thou not cmly didst bear arms against
** me, but was my enemy by birth, I saved thy life,
<< gave thee all thy estate, and enabled thee to live
*^ so well, and so much at thy ease, that the victo?
** even envied the condition of the vanquished. The
^ sacerdotal office, which thou madest suit to me for,
^ I conferred upon thee, after having refused it others
^^ whose ancestors always. bore armsfi>r me; ofotwith-
^ standing which, thou hast undertaken to kill meP*
Cinna crying out at this, that he was very far from
harbouring so wicked a thought, Augii^tus stopped
him short, by saying, ^^ Cinna, thou dost not keep
^^ thy promise ; thou didst assure me that I should
•* not be interrupted : yes; you did undertake to kill
^^ me at such a time and place, in such company,
^ and in such a manner." At which words, seeing
Cinna astonished and silent, not for having broke
his promise to be silent, but from the sting of hia
conscience, ^' What,*' continued Augustus, *^ was
^^ your reason for doing this ? Was it to be made
^^ emperor ? Verily the public afiairs are in a bad
^ state, if I am the only man in the way of thy ad-
^ vancement to the empire. Thou art not so much
^' as able to defend thy own family, and wast lately
*' nonsuited in a cause by a mere libertine. What !
^ will nothing avail thee but to attempt the ruin of
** Cassar i I give up the cause, if there is none but
^ I to obstruct thy hopes. Dost thou imagine that
^ Paulus, Fabius, the Cosssans and Servilians, and
** so many Patricians, riot only noble by title, but
*^ such as honour their nobility by their virtue, will .
' distinctions of this kind. A king, truly respect^le, may freely dis-
pense with this liberty, without risking the loss of anything, any
more than Augustus, Trajan, QrMarpus Aur^ua.
1S6 DIFFEBSKT £V£NT!l
" beat t^4di tliee ?" After a great deal more that he
said to him (for he talked to him above two whole
hours), ** Now, go thy way,** said he, " I give thee
^^ that life, Cinna, as a traitor, and a parricide, which
** I gave thee heretofore as an enemy. Let friend-
*^ ship commence betwixt us from this day forwards ;
" let us try which of us two are the honestest men, I
•* who have given thee thy life, or thou who hast re-
** ceived it.** " And thus he took his leave of him.
Some time after he preferred him to the consular dig-
nity, coniplaining tnat he had not the confidence to
demand it, had a strong friendship for him, and made
him sole heir to his estate. Now from the time of
this accident, which befei Augustus in the fortieth
year of his age, there was never any conspiracy or
attempt formed against him, and he thereby reaped
a just reward for his clemency ; but it did not turn
/ out so weU for our prince, m the preceding story,
for his lenity was not sufficient to secure him from
falling into the snares of the Uke treason, so vain and
frivolous a thing is human prudence, and in spite of
all our counsels, projects, and precautions, fortune
is always the mistress of events. -
SeTi!?c«8 ^^® repute physicians fortunate, when they hit
of pbysicuupon a lucky cure ; as if theirs was the only art that
founded, ^Qui^j j^qi maintain its own ground, that its basis was
too weak to support itself by its own strength, and
as if no other art stood in need of the assistance of
fortune in its operations. For my part, I have as i
good, or as bad an opinion of physic as you please,
for, God be thanked, we hold no correspondence.
I think differently from other men; for I always;
heartily despise it j and when I am sick, instead of i
entering into a composition with it, I begin yet more
to detest and dread it ; and when friends press me to
take physic, I tell them to give me time, at least till j
f I ain restored to my health and strength, that I may
. be the better able to support thevidence and dan-
ger of their potion. I leave nature to its operation,
and am prepossessed with an opinion, tjbat it is sufl
FROM THE SAME COUNSEL. 137
ficiently armed with teeth and talons to' defend it-
self when attacked, and to maintain that contexture
of which it abhors the dissolution ; for I am afraid,
that the endeavour to assist it when it grapples with
the. disease, would really give aid not to nature, but
to its adversary, and that it would create new diffi-
culties.
Now, I say, that fortune has a great share, not in Fortme
phjTsic only, but in several other more certain arts. lUUr* io'uw
The poqtic sallies which transport and ravish their «>«!?<• ■■*
author out of himself, why should we not ascribe pojt^,
them to his good fortune, since the poet himself con«.
fesses they exceed his capacity, and acknowledges
them to proceed from something else than himseli^
and has them no more in his own power, than the
orators say they have in their power those extraordi-
nory motions and agitations that sometimes push
them beyond their design ?
So in painting, strokes shall sometimes slip from Andinpi^
the hand of the painter, so surpassing his fancy and^'
skill, as to excite both his admiration and astonish-
ment. Nay, fortune does yet more plainly demon-
strate the share she has in all works of this kind, by
the elegancies and beauties that appear in them, not
oidy beyond the intention, but even without the
knowledge of the artist himself. A judicious reader
often finds out in another man's writings perfections
different from what were either intended or perceived
by the author, and gives them a richer construction
and complexion.
As to military enterprises, every one sees what a And in «u
good share fortune has in them. Even in our coun- |erori»
sels and deliberations there must certainly be a mix-
ture of good and bad luck, for all that our wisdom
can do avails very little. The more acute and quick
it is, the weaker it finds itself, and the more diffident
it is of itself. I am of Sylla's opinion ; and when I
look more nicely into the most glorious exploits of
war, I perceive, methinks, that the conductors of
them make use of deliberation and CQimsel onl^ for
138 DIFFERENT EVEKT8
form sake, leaving the best share of the enterprise
to fortune, and, depending upon her aid, tran^ess
at every turn the limits of justifiable conduct* '!niere
happen sometimes accidental alacrities and strange
furies in their deliberations, which prompt them ire-
fluently to the most improbable course, and swell
tneir courage beyond the bounds of reason. From
hence it falls out, that man^ great commanders of
old, to give a sanction to their rash resolutions, have
toLd their soldiers, that they were induced thereto
. by some inspiration, omen, orpro^ostic. o^ ^tkAJuK '
The caane In this Uncertainty and perplexity, owing to Our
U^|JJ|^*,n incapacity to discern and choose what is of i£e great-
cases the est advantage, by reason of the difficulties arising
wMcb b ^^^™ ^^ various accidents of thin^, I think, that
wAccrquo. though uo Other consideration should be our motive,
the surest way would be to pitch upon that course
which is most just and honourable; and, as the
shortest way is not evident, to keep always in the di-
rect path ; forasmuch as in the two instances I have
just now mentioned, it is not to be doubted that it
was more noble and generous in him who had re*
ceived the injury, to pardon it, than if he acted
otherwise ; and if the first was disappointed in it, he
is not to be blamed for his good intention, it not
being a clear point, whether, if he had acted a con-
trary part, he would have escaped the issue to which
he was doomed by his destiny, and have lost the re*
putation of such an act of humanity.
Whether it In history there are many instances of persons xm-
jj;^^p*^der this impression of fear, by which most of them
vent COD- have been impelled to obviate the conspiracies that
b^* bio^y were forming against them, by revenge and punish-*
•xeciitioD?.fnent, but I find very few to whom this remedy has
been of service : witness many of the Roman em-
perors. Whoever finds himself in this danger, ought
not to expect much cither fi-om his strength or his
>agilance : for how difficult is it for a man to guard
against an enemy who' wears the countenance of the
most officious friend we liave, and to know the incli-
FROM THE SAME COUNSEL, 189
nation and inward sentiments of those who are pre-
sent with us. It is to very little purpose for a man to
have a guard of foreigners, and to be always fenced
nbout by files of men in arms, since whoever does
not value his own life, will always be master of that of
another man.
Moreover, that continual suspicion which makes a The tad
prince lealous of all mankind, must needs be a ^*f** ** •
Strange torment to him. Therefore it was that Dion, b too miti,
being warned that Callippus watched for opportuni-*"^*^
ties to take away his life, never had the heart to en-
quire particulaiiy into the matter, saying, that he
had rather die, than live in such misery, to be upon
his guard, not only against his enemies, but against
his fiiends.* Alexander behaved with more spirit
and resolution, when, being advised by a letter firom
Parmenio, that Philip, his darling physician, was
Imbed with money by Darius to poison nim, at the
^me time that he gave' the very letter to Philip to
read, swallowed the dose he had brought him.t Wag
Ifiot this a declaration of his resolution, that if his
ifriends had a mind to despatch him out of the world^
to give them free liberty to do it ? This prince is
celebrated for hazardous actions ; but I do not know
whether, in all his life; there be another passage that
demonstrates more constancy than this, or any noble
action of his that shines with so much lustre. Thqr
who preach up to princes such a circumspect dim-
dcnce, under colour of dictating for their security,
do only preach to their ruin and dishonour. Nothing
truly noble is achieved without hazard. I know a
person naturally of a very enterprising, heroic cou-
ragCj whose good fortune is continually prevented
by such persuasions as these; that he keep those
only about him whom he knows to be his friends ;
that he hearken tQ no reconciliaidioq with his old ene*
* Plutarch, in the notable sayings of th^ ancient kipgs*
f Quintus Curtiii8| lib. iiL ^p. 6,
140 DIFFERENT EVENTS
mies ; that he live retired, and not venture his per*
. son with hands stronger than his own, what promise
soever may be made to him, or what prospect soever
he may have of advantage. I know another, who
has unexpectedly made his fortune by following quite
contrary advice.
How far The courage of which men so greedily court the
ou^Ju^iobe glory, is dispXajred, upon occasion, as magnificeiitly
exerted, in a doublct as in ii coat of mail ; in a cabinet as in a
camp i with the arm hanging down, as well as lifted
up. Such tender and wary precaution is a mortal
enemy to noble exploits, bcipio, in order to sound
Syphax's intention, leaving his army, and abandixi-
ing Spain, not yet well settled in ms new conquest,
could pass over to Africa in two contemptible bot>
toms, implicitly commit himself, in an enemy's coun^
try, to the power of a barbarian king upon Uie single
security of the greatness of his own courage, his good
fortune, and his elevated hopes. Habitajides ipsam
plerumquejidetn obligat:* i. e» The confidence we re-
pose in another often procures the return of the like
confidence. On the contrary, for a life of ambition
and eclat, it is necessary to hold a stiff rein upon sus*
picion. Fear and diffidence invite and draw on in*
jury. The most jealous of our kings (Lewis XI.)
established his afiairs chiefly by voluntarily trusting
his enemies with his life and liberty, manifesting
.thereby his entire confidence in them, to the end that
they might repose the same in him. Csesar opposed
only the authority of his countenance, andthe sharp*
ncss of his rebukes, to his armed legions that muti^
nied against him ; and he trusted so much to himself
and his fortune, that he was not afraid to abandon
and commit it to a seditious and rebellious army :
Sletit aggere fulti
Ceftpitis, inlrepidus vuliu, meruitque t'meri
Nil meiuens.f
* Liviusi;^ f Lucan, lib. v. ver.SlG, &c
FROM THE I^AME COUNSEL. 141
Upon a parapet of turf he stood.
His manly &oe with resolution shone ;
And chiU'd the mutineers' inflamed blood,
Challenging fear from all^ by- fearing none.
This undaunted assurance, however, cannot be contiteiice
represented to perfection,* but by such as are not af- ^'Ijy* ^^^
frighted by the apprehension of death, and the worst apprarl
th^ can I^ppen j fiwp to offer a trembling resolution, "^^"[^^^
which is ever doubtful and uncertain, for the service
of our important reconciliation, is nothing to the
purpose. It is an excellent way for a person to win
the heart and good will of another, to offer his ser-
vice and trust to him, provided it be freely and un-
constrained by necessity, and diat he manirest a pure
and entire confidence in him, and a countenance
clear of the least cloud of suspicion. When I was a
boy, I saw a gentleman, a commanding of&cer in a
great city, who, on occasion of a popular commo-
tion, in order to suppress it in the bud, went out of
a place where he was very secure, and committed
himself to the mercy of the turbulent rabble ; but it
was ill for him that he did so, for he was there miser-
ably killed. Nevertheless, I do not think he was so
much to blame in going out, as for having chose a
method of submission and meekness, and for endea-
vouring to appease this storm, rather by being a fol-
lower than a leader, and by entreaty rather than re-
monstrance. And I am inclined to believe, that a
graceful severity, with a soldier-like way of command-
ing, full of security and confidence, suitable to his
rank, and the dignity of his office, would have suc-
ceeded better with hun ; at least, he would have died
with more honour and decency. There is nothing
so little to be expected from this many-headed mon-
8tc7Jwhen thus stirred up, as humanity arid good-
nature. It is much more susceptible of reverence
and fear. Having taken a resolution, in my opinion,
rather brave than rash, of throwing himself weak
and naked into this tempestuous sea of madmen, he
14d UtFFEftEitT^VElflM
blight boldly to have stemmed the tide, and 0ot hav€
suffered himself to be carried away with it ; whereas^
when he began to see his danger near at hand, his
nose happening to bleed, that easy smiling counter
nance which he ha4 assumed was chai^ged into one
of fear, his voice and eyes showing bow amazement
and repentance, and by endeavouring to steal away
and secure his person, he did but iQflame theln, ana
called them upon him.
Aconff. A general review was oQce talked of, of certain
T^^d forces under arms (that being the most likely op*
«r«?p» portumty of secret revenge, so that there is ho place
• hlTppy^fs. where it can be exercised with more safety); and it
•V* was public and notorious that it was not sate for some
to come, whose principal and necessary, office it was
to view them. A council was held, and sevend
things proposed, as in a matter not onlv of difficulty,
but also of weight and consequence. One was, that
they should above all things avoid giving the least
sign of any mistrust, and that the officers most in
danger should come with erect and open counter
nances, mingle themselves in the files, and instead
of sparing fire (to which the other opinions inclined
most), they should solicit the captains to fire in pfa^
toons, as a salvo to the spectators, and not to be
sparing of their powder. Ijbis was so pleasing to the
suspected troops, that from that time forward there
subsisted a mutual confidence among them.
thenm^ I think the method which Julius Cassar toc^ was
j^'ikirc^^^^ best that can be followed. In the first place, he
Mr took to endeavoured to win the hearts of his very enemies by
Ct" of hb clemency, contenting himself^ when any conspiracy'
was discovered to him, with the single declaration that
he knew it before. This done, he todk a noble re^
solution to expect, without soUcitude or fear, what^
ever might be the event, abandoning and resiflning
himself to the care of the gods and fortune ; mr no
doubt he was in this mind at the very instant be waa
killed. I.:.. .. V.r,.
tkOM T9S SAME C<>U1^8EL. 14S
A foreigner intimgtedi that if the tyrant of Sjrra* Ad^Eketo*
cuse, Dionysiiut, would give a good sum of money, {o^^**''
he could m&mn him of a method how he might be asatM^Aoy
certain of discovering all conspiracies which his subr '^^^''
jects might form against him. Dionysius, hearing of
ity sent for him, to teach him an art so necessary for
his preservation : the p^son told him, that there was
nothiqg more in the art, than that he should giv9
him a (Roman) talent» and then boast that he nad
learned a singidv secret from him.* Dionvsius gp^
proved of the contrivance, and ordered nim 600
crowns* It was not likely that he should give so
ereat a sum to a person unknown, but as a reward
tor a very usefiil discovery, the belief of which served
to keepr his enanies in awe. Princes, however, do
very wisely to publish the advices they receive of
practices against their lives, in order to create an
opinion that they have gpod intelligence, and that
nothing can be plotted against them, of which they
have not some tidings. The duke of Athens did ma^*
ny ridiculous things in the establishment of his new
tyrannv over Florence ; but the moat remarkable was
this, that having received the first intelligence of thd
conspiracies which the people were forming against
hun, by means of Mattneo di Moroso, their accom-^
plice, he put him to death, in order to stifle the re^
port, and that it might not be thought any man in
the city disliked his govenunent.
I remember to have formerly read a story of a cer- Extniw«^
tain Roman, a personage of dignity, wno, in hisj^n*^
. flight from the tyranny of the Triumvirate, escaped
a thousand t^nes from his pursuers by a thousand
Bubtilties. It happened one day that a troop of horse,
which was sent to take him, passed close by a brake
in which he Jay hid, and narrowly missed him. But
he, considerijQig the pain and hardships which he had
already so long endured to escape the strict and con«
tinual search that was every where made for him, the
^ Flatftfcb, ia the notabte sajiogs of the ancient kings.
144 OP PEDAKTAY.
little pleasure he could hope for in such a life, and
how much better it was for him to die once for all,
than to be perpetually in this dread ; he that instant
called them back, showed them where he hid
himself, and voluntarily surrendered himself to their
cruelty, in order to rid both himself and them of any
Birther trouble. To call upon an enemy to dispatcn
one, seems a little too rash; yeU I think, he did
better to take that course, than to live in continual
apprehension, for which there was no other cure.
But seeing that all the remedies which can be ap«
plied to such a case, are full of uneasiness and un-
certainty, it is better to prepare with a good appear-
ance for the work that may happen, and to be com-
forted with the consideration, that we are not cer-
tain that what we so much dread will come to pass.
fiHaiiti
CHAPTER XXIV.
Of Pedantry.
1 WAS of^en vexed, when I was a boy, to see §
•'•"^^^ pedant always brought in as a coxcomb in the Italian
•f be»t" comedies, and that the title of master was in no
**^* greater esteem amongst us ; for as I was put under
their tuition, could I help having a tenderness for
their reputation? I endeavoured, indeed, to ex-
cuse them from the natural disparity that is betwixt
the vulgar, and persons of excellent and uncommon
. judgment and knowledge ; but in this I was non-
plussed, when I found, that the men of the best
sense were they who most heartily despised them ;
witness our famous poet, Du Bellay :
Mais je hay parsur tout un scawir pedantesque*
But above all things 1 abominate pedantic leuniog;
or pi»4K»t* |43i?
And ih^x w^ ^ ^0 sQ in formQr ti«i$9; $>f j^lut^t^b
sa^8t that the terms Grecian iHd Scholar W9r§ nvKi^
of reproach and contempt among the {lomaAs^
Afterwa]:d3 I found, by the experience of yf^r%
that they had abundant reason for it» and tbikt nu/gh
magnos Chric^s nan wni fHogi^ m$gfw.sfipi^^^:^
h e. That the greatest scholars are not tibe wi^esi
men. But how it should come to pass, 1^ a qiin^i
enriched with the knowledge of so many l^ngs, 4oe4
not thereby become die more quiok and liMw> ^
that a gross and common understanding ^ko^^ te^
room, without improving itself, for the discoursie^
and judgments of the most exoeUent gmm the world
ever produced. Jam yet to seek. Ajroung l^dy,
one of the first of our prinicesses, ^d 1» me once^
speaking of a certain person, that he adA^tted aa
many ¥rdd and strange notions, and such strong con«
ceptions, that his brains must be cr<H;ided and pressed
together into a less* compass, to make room xor any
others. I should be ready to conclude^ that aa
plants are drowned wiUi too much moisture, an<i
lamps with too much oil, so too much study and bur
inness has the same effect upon the operation of the
mind ; which being employed and embarrassed by a
Variety of matter, has no power to tlirow off t^c;
Weight which keeps it bowed, and, as it were, be^
numbetL: but it is quite otherwise; for the mind,
the fuller it is, the more it expands itself; and, to
look back to ancient times, we see men very suffix
cient for the management of public affairs, great
captains and ^reat statesmen, who were witlial men
of ^eat learning. As to the philosophers, who were Phiioto-
retu-ed from all public affairs, their opinions and sin- ^*5^^^j
guiarities have also sometimes exposed thetn to ridi- wby.
cule. Would you make them judges of the merits of
a law^suit, or of a man's actions ? They are fully
prepared for it, and straight begin to examine if there
* A kind of proverb, which is only mentioned in this rough mail*-
ner to render the pretenders to learning the more ridiculous. Yott
wS find it in Rabelais, lib.i* cap. 29*
VOt. !• L
be fife^ if there he motion, if the man be 9t^ othft^
than an ox ;* what is active and passive, and what
sort of aniinals law and justice afe. Do they speak
either of a magistrate, or to him, it is with an irre-
verent and uncivil freedom. Do ithej hear a prince
or a king commeiided,t they treat him, at best, but
s$ an iSe sluepberd, that misies himself only about
imUdnff and sharing his flocks Do you esteem any
maa of tlie greater conseqaence ibr being lord cd
9000 aci%6 OT land It they laugh at your regard,
bemg accustomed to claim the whole world for their
possession. Do you boast of your nobility, or their
being descended from seven rich ancestors? they
look up<m you with contempt, aa men that have no
nodon of the universd image of nature, and that
do not conmdter bow many predecessors evefy one of
us have had, rich, poor, kings, slaves, Greeks, and
bmrbarians. And though ycm were the fiftieth de-
scendant from Hercules, they think yon vain to set
^uch a value on this, which is only a gift of fcMtnne.
Consequently the vulgar scorned them, asr men who
were ignorant of the world.
tbe mide But thi& Platonic picture does l^ no means re-
brtw'i^r ^mble our pedants ; for the philosophers were envied
the ancient fef thinking themselvcs better than the common sort
yhe^d of men, despising public affiiirs and transactions,
dVnS^ affedting a particular manner of life, and discoursing
in bombast and obsolete language. But the pedanta
are despised for being below the usual ibrm, for
being incapable of public offices, and, for their low-
life manners, resembling the vulgar. Odi homines^
* If MontaigneitfM copied this from Plat</fi Thcnteles, p. 127, F.
as "it J8 plain by aU which he has added immediately after, that he haa
taken it froiia that dialogue, he has grosslv mistaken PUito's senti-
ntent, who aays here.no more than this, that the philosopher is so
ignorant of what tis n«i^hboar does, that he scarce knows whether
TO is a man, or some other animal ; th rnkm • pw irAwtm wu •
4aotft.
t Pl^'s Theatetes^ p. 128, A.
% Plato's Theatetes, p. 128, R. £.
Of pfiiiAKTRir« 147
Snffca apera^ philosophica sententia :* i. e. I hate
e men who think like philosophers, but at the
same time are mere triilersi As tot those same phi*
losophers, I must needs say, that as they were great
men in science, they were yet much greater in all
their ^k^tions, as it is said of the geometrician of
SryracusCyt who, being disturbed in his contempla-
tion, in order to put some of his skill in practice for
the defence of his couiitrjr, suddenly set on foot cer-
tain terrible eainnes, which wrought effects bejrond.
all human belief; yet, nevertheless, he himself de^
spised hisrown hanaywork, thinking that, by playing
the mechanic, he had debased the.digni^ of his art^
of which he reckoned tho^e performances but trivial
exertions, by way of expenment. So they some^
times, when they have been put upon the prod (j(t
action, have been seen to fly to so high a pitch, that
it plainly appeared their hearts and souls were ele»
vated to a strange degree, While their minds were
enriched with the knowledge of thin^ Nay some,
who saw the reins of government seized by persons
incapable of holdibg them, have avoided afl share id
die management of affidi^. And he who asked Crates,
how long he thought it necessary to philosophise,
received for answer, 'VAs long as our armies are
** comnumded by blockheads/'t
Heraclitus resigned the royalty to his brother i^
and the Ephesians reproaching him fbr spending his
time in fisLying with boys bcK^re the temjde,^ ^^ Is it
" not better,'^said he,|| " to do so, than to sit at the
^^ helm of affairs with you ?*' Others, having their
' * PacUvitts apud Aul. Gelliiu, lib. xtiu cap* 8*
\ Archimedes^ in FluUrdi^s Life df Marccllus, ch. 6 of Axnyot*^
translation.
X Diogenes Laerdus, in the Life of Crates, lib- vi- sect. 92.
§ Diogenes liertiusy in the Li&^of HeracliMM,lib.ix« sect. 6.
By Bm-iIam* is to be understood, according to M^age^ not royalty
in the prooer sense of the word, \m a pmcular office which was so
styled at Epheftus, as well as at Athens and Ilome, aft v thexr rentmi^
ciation 6f a nu^narchical gove)fnn)tol«
n IbideiH, sect. 3.
148 OP PEDANTRT.
thoughts elevated above the world and fortune, havtf
looked upon the tribunals of justice, and even the
thrones of kings, with an eye of contempt and scorn.
Thus Empedocles refused the royalty which was
offered to nim by the Agrigentines.* Thales, once
inveighing against the care and pains men took to
grow rich, was compared to the fox, who said of the
grapes which he could not come at, that they were
sour ; whereupon he had a mind, for the jest's sake,
to show them an experiment to the contrary ; and
after having prostituted his learning in the search of
profit and gain, he set up a traffick,t which in less
than a year brought him so much wealth, that the
most experienced in the business were scarce able,
with all their industry and economy, to rake so much
together in their whole lives. What Aristotle re-
ports of some, who termed Thales, Anaxagoras, and
the like sort of men wise^ but not prudent j for not
taking due care of the main chance, though I do not
well digest the diflerence of those epithets, will not
however serve as an excuse for my pedants ; for to^
. consMer the low and necessitous fortunes with which*^
they are contented, we have rather reason to pro-
: nounce, that they are neither wise nor prudent
u^n\n ^^> *^ ^^® "P '^ ^* reason, I think it better
A^mpt- to say, th^t the misfortune arises from their wrong
iMr wrong ^^thoid of applying themselves to the sciences ; and
€jacattoD. that, afler the manner in which we are instructed, it
is no wonder if neither the scholars ^or the masters
are a whit the more capable of business, though they
are the more learned. In truth, the care and ex-
pense our parents are at, have .no other aim but to
furnish our heads with knowledge, but not a word of
judgment ind virtue. Cry out of one that passes hy^
♦Diogenes, in the. Life of Empedocfes, Kb. viii. sect. 6S.
t Cicero de Divinatione, lib. u cap. 49, says, thai Thales, fa
order to show that it was . possible, even for a philosopher^ if he
pleased, to get an estate, bought up all the olive tree^in the Mile^
sian field before they were in blOom. See Diogenes Laertius, in the<
Life of Thales, lib. u sect. 26.
!DF reDANTRT. 149
" O! tehat aleftrnedmanid that!'' and of another,
'^ O ! what a ^ood man is that i** the people will not
iail to turn their eyes, and pay their respects to the
former. There. should then be a third man to cry
out, "Oi what blockheads arc they!** Men are
ready to adc, dtfes he understand Greek or Latin f 1$
he a poet or prose writer ? But whether he is the
better or more discfeet man, though it is the main
^estion, is the last; for the inquiry should be, who
iias the best Ijearaiiig, not who has the most
We only take pains to stuff the memory, and leave Tbey on\f
the understtoding and conscience quite unfurnished* i^^^^
As the birds which fly abroad to forage for grain, memory.
t>ring it home in the beak, without tasting it them*
selves, to feed their young ; just so our plants pick
knowledge out of several authors, ana hold it at
their tongue's end, to spit out and distribute it
abroad. It is strange to think how guilty I mysdf
am of this very folly y for do I not the saine thing
almost throughout this whtfle treatise i I cull here
and there out of several books such sentences as
please me, not to keep them ifi my memory (for I
nave none to retain them), but to transplant them
into this work, where, to say the truth, they are no ,
mote niine thm they w^e in the places from whence •
I took them.
We are, as I conceive, oftly skilled in the know« Tbey <mif
ledge of the present, and not at all of what is past,^^^** ^
or to come ; out the worst of it is, the scholars and tuIo dif»^
pupils of these pedants are no better nourished orgJVj*^^^^^
improved by it, and it passes from one hand toing.
another fbr this purpose^ only to make a show of it
in conversation, ana story-telling, like those glitter-
ing counters, which are of no other use or service
but to play or count a game with. Apud alios loqui
didiceruntj non ipsi secum ;♦ i. e. They have learned
to converse with others, but not with themselves.
Non est loifuendum^ sed gubernandum :i the business
is not to talk, but to manage,
* Cic. Tusc* Qussi. lib. v. cap* S6. f Senec Epist. 108.
15Q OF FEDANTEY.
"Nature, to show that its conduct is not wild, does
often, in nations which are the least cultivated by
art, give rise to productions of genius, such as are a
snatch for the greatest efforts of art. In relation to
what I am now speaking of, the Gascon proverb
dejcived from a reed pipe, has a delicate meaning,
Bouhd pro bouhay mas a remuda lous dits qu^em : i. e«
You may blow yoiu* heart out, but if once you stir
your fingers, it is all over. We can exclaim, says
Cicero, these were the morals of Plato ; these the
very words of Aristotle : but what do we stty our-
selves that is our own ? What is it we do ? What is
our own judgment ? A parrot would say as much to
thepurpose as Ihis.
Theitapi. THb^is puts me in mind of that wealthy Roman,*
WL^,^ who had taken care, though at a very great expense^
Id'hi^*'^if *^ coHect able men in every science, whom he kept
anuu^f continually^ in his company, to the end, that if
iTcTj^he ^^^'^g** ^^ friends any topic of discourse should be
iild?mi«d started, they might supply nis place, and be ready to
JJ" *■ ^** prompt him, one with a 8aying,t another with a verse
of Homer, &c. every one according to his talent ;
and he fancied this knowledge to be his own, be-
cause it was in the heads of those whom he retained
about him ; as they also do whQse fund of learning
lies in their sumptuous libraries. I know one, who,
when I ask him a question, calls for a book to show
me the answer ; and he would not even have the
Courage to tell me he has the piles, without having
immediate recourse to his dictionary to find out the
meaning of the words scab and fundament.
^ * Clavlaeus Sabinus, He lived in the ime of Seneca ; who, be-
sides what Montaigne here says of him, reports stories that are even
more ridkuloiu of this rich impertinent, epist 27*
t His memory was so. bQd, that he every now «nd then forgot the
names of Ulysses, Aqhilles, and Priam, ^houffh he had known them
as well as we knew our pedagogues; yet h^ had a mind to be thought
learned, and invented this compendious method, viz. he bought
slaves at a great prioe, one who was master of Homer, another of
Hesiod, and nine of lyrie poetry, to whom he, every now and then^
had recourse for verses, which in rehearsing he oflen stopped in the
piiddle of a verse, yet he thought he knew as much 9S any one in the
bouso did, Seneca, ibid.
OfnDAKTETv ISl
"We take other men's opinions upon trust, and give UmAa^^it
outsell^ no manner of trouble ; whereas we should Jj!^^^
make them our own. In this we seem to be veryii^arawa.
like the man, who, wanting fire, went to his neigh-
bour's house to fetch it,* and finding a very good one
there, stayed to warm hiniself by it, but never re-
membered to carry any home with him. Of what
sendee is it to us to have a bellyful of meat, if it
does not digest, if it does not change its form in our
bodies, andif it does not nourish and strengthen
us? Can we imagine that Lucullus, whose learnings
without any manner of experience, made and formed
him so great a commander, acquired it after our
manner ? We suffer ourselves to lean so much upon
the arms of others, that our strength is of no use to
us. Would I fiirtify m/self against the fear of deaths
J do it at the expense of Seneca; would I extract
consolation for myself or my fiiend, I borrow it from
Cicero; whereas 1 might have found it in myself, i£
I had been trained up in the exercise of my own
reason. I do not fancy this acquiescence in second-
hand hearsay knowledge ; for though We may be
learned by the help of another's knowledge, we can
never be wise but oy our own wisdom :
Mfttf'S tf'of K^v «r»< ij(^ ivrZ rof oc.t 1. e.
Who inliis own eonceni^s not wise,
1 that man's wisdom do despise.
Therefore, sa^ Ennius, Neqmd^uam sopere eapi-
enUMj qui ipsi sibi prodesse non qmret :t i. e. Vain is
the vdsdom of that sage who cannot profit himself
by it.
* This comparison inay be found at the end of Plutarch's Treatise
ef Rearing ; and firami thence it is, no doubt, that Montaigne took it,
beoaose he expresses it afanost in the very words of Amyot's inuia*
iatioii.
f The words of Euripides, as Cicero teUs us, ep. 15, toCflcaar,
lib. xiii. ,
t Cicero de Offic lib. iii. a^ 15.
IJ^ orPBDAKTItr^
-5t o^fAcMi
Fun^t ei Eaganea quantumtns nnoUkr aga&J^u c«
If he is OQve^ouSj a liitf j or e^mioate.
Non enim paranda nobis solum j s^i frt/ienda sapu
fntia est :t i e. For wisdom is not only to be ac%
^ire4, but eirjoye4*
XKonysiuBt laughed »t th^ grammarians, who were
so solicitous to know what were the miseries which
Ulysses suffered, and do not know their own ; at
^musicians, who are so exact in tuning their instni«
inents, and never tune their manners^ ; and at ora^
tors, who study to declare what is justice, but not ta
perform it. If our mind takes so wrong a bias, and
if the judgment be so imsound, I should have liked it
liltogether as well, if my scholar had spent his time
lit tennis, for then the oody would at least have ac*
quired greater agility. Do but obswve him when he
is come from school, after spending fifteen or sixteei^
years there ; nothing is so unfit for business. All that
you find in him more than he had before he went
thither, is, that his Latin and his Greek have ren-
dered him only a greater and a more conceited cox-
comb tfian he was when he wei^t from home. He
ought to have returned with his head well ftirnished,^
whereas it .is Only puffed up, and inflated,
fhe duu These sparks, as Plato says of the sophists, their
7^teDdm cousins-german, are of all men those who proipise to
totearniiig. bc tlic mpst usefiil to their fellow-creatures, and who
alone, of all men, do only not amend what is com-
mitted to them, as a carpenter and a mason does,
but mak^ bad. worse, and take pay for it to boot. It
the rule which Protagoras proposed to his pupils wa$
followed, either that (hey should give him his own
♦ Jtiv. Sat viii, ver, 14, 15, f Cicero de Finib, lib. i. cap. 1.
% In ail jthe editions of Montaigne wbich I have aeeii^ witooul
excepting Mr. Cotton's translation, Dionysius is mentioned; jctthe
vise reflectioAs irtiich Montaigne hero ascribes to DioiiyMiia,, were
made by Diogenes the c^nic, as may be seen in that pmlo8opher*s
life written by Diogenes Vfaertius^ IRu vi. sect 27, 28.
OF FEOAimiT^ IS^
demand) 6r take an oatii in the temple, whatvduethe^
set upon the advaht^^ they had received from this
discipline, and satisfy him accordingly for his trouble ;
my pedagogues Would.be horridly frustrated, espe*
cia^ if Siey were to be judged by the testimony of
my experience. In my vulgar Pericordin language
such smatterers in learning are pleasanfly called
kttre-feHts^ as if one should say, tiiey were letter-
marked, or had letters stamped on them by the strpke
of a msJlet ; and, in truth, they seem, for the most
part, to be sunk even below common sense. For
you see the peasant and the cobler go simply and
honestly in their own way, speaking only ot what
they know and understand ; whereas these fellows
are continually perplexmg and entangling themtselves^
in order to make a parade of that knowkdge, which
floats onlv oti the superficies of the brain. They say
^good tntng sometunes, but let another apdly it«
They are wonderfully well acquainted with Galen^
hut not at all with the disease of the patient. They
have stuped your ears with the laws, but know
nothing of the n^erits of the case : they have the
theory of ev&ry thing, but you must seex for others
to put it in practice. .
I hfive sate bv when a fiiend of mine, at my ownchafttctcr
house, for sport^s sake, hiis, with one of these fellows, p^^^
counterfeited a jargon o£ unconnected gibberish,
patched up of various pieces, without head or tail,
saving that he interlarded certain terms, here and
there, which were peculiar to the subject of their
dispute ; by which means he amused the blockhead
in debating the point> from morning to night, who
thought he had always fully answered every objec-
tion : and yet this was a man of letters and reputa-
tion, and had a fine robe: *"
Fes 0 ^rictus sanguis^ tjuos vivere fas est
Occipitt coecOf posiiae OQCurrite sa/tntt.* u e.
Ye nobles, whom flatterers easily blindj
Be guard^ against a scar from behind.
♦ Pers. Sat, i. ver. 61^ 62.
Whoever narrowly pries into this kind of men^
whose number is very extensive, will, as I have done,
find that, for the most part, they neither understand
themselves nor others, and that, thouj^ th^ have
strong memories, their iudgment is v^ shallow,
unless where nature itself has^ given, them another
turn, as I observed in Adrianus Tumebus, whp,
thou^ he never made other profession than that of
leamii^ only, in which, in my opinion, he was the
greatest man that has been these tnousand years, yet
had nothing pedantic about him, but the wear of his
robe, and a pertain external fashion that was un-
courtly, which are things of no moment ; and I hate
our people who dislike the pedant worse than his im-
pertinence, and take their measure of a man's un-:
derstanding by the bow he mkkes, his very gesture,
and even by his boots. For within this outside of
his there was not a more illustrious soul up<Hi earth.
I have often, fibr the purpose, started subjects to him
to which he was quite unaccustomed, wherein I
found he had so clear an insight, so quick an appre-
hension, and so solid a jud^ent, mat one would
have thought he had never been practised in any
thing but arms, and affiurs of state. These endow-
ments of nature have such beauty and vigour :
^Quibus arte benignij
Et melior Tuto fitrnt pneeardia TitmiJ^ u e.
The sun having of day much more refin'd,
With greater accuracy form'd their mind :
that they keep their ground in defiance of a bad edu-
cation. . But it is not enough that our education does
not spoil us, it is necessary that it should alter us for
the better.
Know- There are some of our parliaments, which, when
tl^S^TS^^^y ^^ t^ admit any officers, examine only into
campanied their Icaming ; others also add the trial of their un-
^^ ><«g- derstanding, by asking their judgment of some law-
case. The latter seem to me to proceed in the best
* Jut. Si^t. xiY. ver. 34>, 35
OP PBDANTRT* 16S
Aiediod. And tfaou^ both are absolutely necessary^
sagtd it is requisite that they should be defective in
neither, yet, in tnifli, ju^ptnent is to be preferred
to science, the former of which may make unfi with*
out the latter, but not ^e latter without the fonneo::
ibr, as the Greek verse says,
'£lq iii¥ i ftinTiC 11V fAn tfif xetfn* i* 6«
Learning is uselM, without wit and sense.
Would to God that, for. the sake of justice, our
courts of judicature were as well furnished with uii«
derstanding and conscience as they are with know-
ledge. Aon vita sedschola^ dicimusy says Seneca ;*
we do not study to live, but to dispute. Now learn-
ing is not to be made a mere appendix to the mind,
but to be incorporated with it : it must not only be
tinctured with it, but thoroughly dyed ; and if it does
not change and meliorate its imperfect state, it were^
without question, better to let it alone:
* A little learning is a dangeroos thing,
Prink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring :
For shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
Bnt drinlcing deeply sobers us again. f i ^ . .
It is a dangerous weapon, and if in weak hands that
know not how to use it, it will embarrass and hurt
its master, Utjuerit melius nan didicissei\ so that it
would have been better not to have learned at alL
This perhaps is the cause, that neither we nor divi-
vxtj require miich learning in women ; and that
Francis, duke of Brittany, son of John V. when, in
talking of his marriage with Isabel, the daughter of
Scotland, he was told, that she was homely bred,
and without any manner of learning, he made an*
swer, ^* that he liked her the better for it j and /
" that a woman was learned enough, if she could V '^*
^ distinguish between her husband's shirt and his \
-^doublet'* ^
* £p. 106, in fine. f Cicero Tnsc Quest. lib.iL cap. 4.
156 Ot PEDANIHr.
yrheiher It IS therefore no such grc4t wondier, as they make
«^Tu"f ly*^ of it, that our ancestors h*ld learning in no great
»ecessar>. estccm^ and that, even to this day^ it is but seldoiii
to bfe met with in the privy councils of our kings j
and were it not for enriching ourselves (which is the
only thing we propose now a-days, by the meaos of
law, physic, pedantry, and even divinity itself), you
would no doubt see it in as despicable a state as ever.
What pity then would it be it it neither instructed
us to think well, nor to do well ? Postquam docti
iirodieruntj boni desinunt.^ Since the appearance of
earned men, good men are become scarce- All
other knowledge is detrimental to him who has not
the science of becoming a good man.
Every kfnd But may uot the reason 1 touched upon just now
■or^ap" ** ^so proceed from hence, that our study in France
kie of ^- having, as it were, no other view but profit, few of
wtu^bl those who are formed by nature for omces rather of
leurniiig. (iignity than gain, apply themselves to learning, or
for so little a while (being taken from their studies
before they have had a reHsh for them, to some pro-
fession which has nothing to do with books), tnat^
generally speaking, there are none left to apply them-
selves wnoUy to study but people of mean education,
who only study learning for a livelihood. And the
minds of such people, being by nature, and domestic
education and example, of the basest alloy, make a
wrong use of learning. For it is not for knowledge
to furnish light to a dark soul, nor to make a bhnd
man see. Its business is not to find a man eyes, but
to clear them, and to regulate a man's steps, pro-
vided he have good feet and legs of his own. Know-
ledge is an excellent drug, but no drug has virtue
enough to preserve itself from corruption and decay,
» if the vessel into which it is put be not sound and
. sweet. A man may have a clear sight who looks
a-squint, and consequently sees what is good, but
does not follow it, and sees knowledge, but makes
• Seneca, Epist 95.
OP PEDANTRY* 157
no use of it Hate's principal institution in his re-
public, is to fit his subjects with employments suit-
able to their nature. Nature can do eveiy tiling,
and does every thing. Cripples are not fit for exer-
cises of the body, nor weak understandings for those
of the mind, rhilosophy is too sublime for dege-
nerate and vulgar minds. When we see a shoe-
maker ill shod, we say it is no wonder. Thu;^, it
seems, we often find, by experience, a physician
worse doctored, a divine worse reformed, and con-
sequently a scholar of less sufficiency than other
men. Aristo of Chios had ancienliy reason to say,^
that philosophers did their auditors more harm than
good, because most of them are not capable of re^
ceiving benefit by such instructions, on which they
were too apt to put a bad interpretation ; so that
«4rfirr«f, ejT AHstippij acerbosex Zenonis schola ejcire:^
I. e. That the^ went away debauchees from the
school of Aristippus, and sour churls from that of
Zeno.
In that excellent institution which XenophonThePeiw
ascribes to the Persians, we find, that they taught J^JgJJJJ^
their children virtue, as other nations instruct them rm a vir-
in letters. Plato says,t that the eldest son in the|"^°^oflI
rojral succession was thus tutored. As soon as he i^^i-Md
was bom, he was delivered, not to women, but to ***'"^***^
the eunuchs of the greatest authority about their
kings fi>r their virtue, whose charge it was to keep
his body in health and good plight, and after he
came to seven ^ears of age, to teach him to ride,
and to go a hunting. When he attained to fourteen,
they transferred him into the hands of four the
wisest, the most just, the most temperate, and the
most valiant men of the nation. The first instructed
him in religion, the second taught him to be always
honest, the third to be the master of his appetites,
and the fourth to despise all danger.
* Cic de Nat Deor. lib. iii. cap. 91. j* Ibidt
|: In the first Alcibiadesy p. 32:
The Lace. It is a thing worthj of very great cotAdentioitf
J^"^^ that in that excellent, and, in truth, for its perfect
»p to every tioH, prodlgious form of civil r^men, proposed by
liu^ue. I'ycutgaaf though solicitous of the education of
' children, as a thing of the greatest concern, and even
in the very seat of the muses, be should make to
little mention of learning, as if their^nerous youth,
disdaining any other voke but that ofvirttae, oi^ht to
be furnished only with such masters as should instruct
in valour, prudence, and iustice, instead of being
put under our masters of the sciences ; an example
which Plato has followed in his laws. The form ctf
their discipline was, to propound questions to them
upon the judgment of men and their actions ; and
if^ they cpmmended or condemned either this or that
person or &ct, they were obliged to give their reason
for so doing ; by which means they at once sharpened
their understanding, and became skilful in the law^
Astyages in Xenopnon,* having demanded of Cyrus
an account of his last lesson, he made this answer, viz. *
^ A tall boy in our school, having a cassock too short,
^^ took another by force, from one of his companions
*^ who was not so tall, and gave hifn his own in ex-
^^ change. Our master having made me judge of
^ this dispute, I thought it best for both of them to
^^keep the cassock he then had, for that each of
^ them was better accommodated with the other's
^ cassock than with his own. But my master told me
^ I had given wrong judgment ; for I had only con-
^^ sidered the fitness of the garments, whereas I
^^ ought principally to have had regard to. strict jus«
^ tice, wnich requires that no one should be deprived
** of his property by force." And young Cyrus ad-
ded, that he was lashed for it, as we are in our vil-
lages, for forgetting the first aorist of rwrru\ My
pedagogue must make me a fine oration, in genere
^emonstrativo^ before he can persuade me that his
school is as good as that They chose to shortea
* Xenophon's Cyropsedia^ lib. ucap, 3, sect. 14r
the way, and forasnmcb as the sciences, when they
are rightly pursued and applied, cannot but teach us
pnidenee, ndelity, and resolution, they thought fit to
imtiKCe their chihken in the knowledge of the effects,
and to instruct them, not b^ hearsay, but by the
proof of the action, in vigorously ibrming and
moulding them not only by words and precepts, but .
chiefly by works and examples, to the end that it
might not onl3r be a knowledge of the mind, but be-
come constitutional and habitual, and not barely an
acquisition, but a natural possession. Agesilaus, being
asked ibr the purpose, ^* What he thought most pro-
" per for boys to learn ?" replied, " What they
•* ought to do when thejr come to be men/' No
wondefr if such an institution produced such admiral
ble effects.
It is said, they used to go to the other cities of't^ (iiftr*
Greece, in quest of rhetoricians, painters, and musi- HJee^e
cians ; but to Lacedaemon for legislators, m^s- •■•w^tiofl
trates, and generals of armies; at Athens theyfhUdM^
learned to speak well ; at Lacedsemon to act well ; ®^|[JJJf^
at Athens to ^et clear out of a sophistical argument, juUnf.
and to unravel ensnaring syllogisms ; at Lacedaemon
to escape the baits of pleasure, and with a noble
courage to withstand the menaces of fortune and
death. Tlie Athenians cudgelled their brains about
words, the Lacedaemonians about things ; at Athens
there was an eternal babble of the tongue, at Lace-
daemon a continual exercise of the mind : therefore
it is no wonder, that, when Antipater demanded
fifty of their children for hostages, they made an-
swer, quite contrary to what we should do, that they
would rather give him twice the number of full
grown men, such a value did they set upon their
children's domestic education.* When Agesilaus
courted Xenophon to send his children to be bred pp
at Sparta, it was not that they should learn rhetoric
there or logic, but to be instructed, he said, in the
• ■ * Flviarch in the notable sayings of the Lacedemonians.
160 ttvsDAmur^
noblest Df all sciences^ viz. how to obey, and how tx^
commancl.*
H«w8fo. It is pleasant to see Socrates, after his manner,
2)!!!ra^ rallying Hippias, when he tells him what a sum ot
vMti who money he had got by teaching school, especially in
thinf^lc"^ certain little viflages of Sic^y, bat that at Sparta he
^^^'^ did not get one penny. What idiots are they,^d So-
crate8,t who know nothing of mensuration nor nu«
meration, and make no account either of grammar
or poetry, and onlj^ amuse themselves in studying
the succession of kings, the settlement and declen^
sion of states, and the like kind of stuff !t And,
after all, Socrates having made him, from one stq> to
another, acknowledge the excellency of their form
of public administration, and the felicity and virtue
of their private life, leaves him to guess what in«
ference he draws from the inutility of his pedantic
arts.
Thetd. Examples have taug^ht us, that in military aflUrs^
Jjj^«p and all others of that kind, the study of the sciences
damp and enervates the courage of men rather thaa
auickens and rouses it. The most potent empire^
iat appears to be at this day in the whole world, is
that or the Turks, a people who have a ^reat esteeoi
for arms, and as hearty a contempt for hterature. I
find that Rome was more valiant before she grew so
learned. The most waxlike nations in our days are
the most stupid, and the most ignorant ; of which
the Scythians, Parthians, and the great Tamerlane,
may serve as a proof. When the Goths ravaged
Greece, the only thing that preserved all the libraries
from being burnt, was an opinion which one of their
body possessed them with, that it was absolutely the
best way to leave all that furniture entire in the
enemy's hands, as it would tend to divert them fipm
the exercise of arms, and incline them to a lazy and
sedentary life. When our Hiqg, Charles VIII. as it
* Plutarch in the Life of Agesilaus, cap. Y.
t Plato's Hippiag Major> p. 9G« % Id«m. p. Vfi
Of THfi fiDUCAttO^ OF CfilLDREH* 161
"Were without drawing his swoid, saw hiibself pos«^
sessed of the kingdom of Naples, and of a great part
of Tuscany, the nobility abcmt him attributed this
uneicpected facility -of conquest to this, that thi^
princes and nobles of Italy studied more to render
themselves ingextious and learned, than vigorous and
warlike.
^9^
I
CHAPTER XXV*
Of the Edueatian of Childrem
To Madame Diana de Foix, Cauniesi deGursoiu .
NiEVER yet saw that fathfer ivhb would not owli wimt wii
his son, were he ever so crooked or scabby ; not that ^^^^
he is insensible of his defects, unless he be altogether uig^T
intoxicated with affection, but still he is his child. H^Tillh
So, for my own part, I perceive more dearly than lueratufc*
anjr body, that these Essays of mine are but the idle
wmmsies of a man who only nibbled on the outward
rind of the sciences in his nonage, and has only re*
tained a vague and imperfect idea of them, a little
smatch of every thing, and nothing thoroughly i la
mode de Frangoise. For I know^ in general, that
there is such a science as physic, a knowledge in the
laws, four parts Or branches of the mathematics, and
have a gross idea of what all these aim at. Perhaps
too, I InioW what the sciences contribute to that be*
nefit of human life ; but to dive farther than that,
and to have bit my nails in the study of Aristotle, the
monarch of all modern learning, or to have bent my
study entirely to any one science^ is what I never
did, nor is there any one art, of which I can so much
as draw the first lineaments ; insomuch that there is
not a school-boy of the lower classes, but may pre-
sume to say he is a better scholar than I am,' who
havje not ability sufficient to examine him in his first
vox.. !• J^
t09 OF THE E0W;a«oi?
Je89on : «fiA ^ I am at uny time forced upmi it, I
conatnuQ^ to put some general questions to him,
.^eidQ.froia <lie pcHUt, upon which 1 try his natural
judgment^ a lesson a9 inuch unkfiQwn to him^.as. his
is to me.
iPhitorch . , I .have not settled a ccKrespondence. with any
JjJff^Jr- books of solid learning but Plutarch and .Seneca;
itebooksof and from them, like the Danaides, I am continually
**^^*^*' filling and pouring out j so that what I endeavour to
make my own, is next a-^kin to nothing. History is
my favourite subject, or else ooetry, which I am
particularly fond of: fer,*as Cteanthes said, in the
same manner as the voice strained throi^ the nar-
row passage of a trumpet comes* out sl^onger and
shriller, just so, metjiinks, a sentence enforced by
the numerous measures of poetry, is much more
stalking both to my ear and apprehension^ As to
the natural parts I wve, of which this is a specimen,
, J find them to bow under the burden :. my fancy and
judgpifent do but grope in thedark^ staggering, trip-
ping) ^^d stumblii^; and when I have gone as ur
.as I can, I am by no means satisfied ; I see nxMre
land still be&re me, but so wrapped in clouds, that
jsay dim jsi^t cannot distipguish what it is. And as
.1 take upon me to treat indifferently of whatever
eomes intp my head, and therein trust entirely to
|ny own natural talents, if I happen, as I often do,
to find in good authc^^ those very topics which I have
attempted to write uBon (as I did very lately in Plu-
.tarch-8 Discourse of me Strength of ImaginadoQ), to
.see myself so. weak ^d iqsipid, so dull and sleepy in
comparison of thosie writers, I either pity or despise
Tmyself. Yet it is some pleasure to . me to find that
my^ppinions l\ave frequently the honour to taUy with
theirs, and that I follow in the same track, though
at a OTeat distance; saying that diey are in ther^t;
.and I have tliyfs gAwlity, which every pne cannot boast
.0^ c^. knpwipg the mde diiSerejice between them
<aQd me/ N/evertheless, I give vent to my own.SiW-
^timents, wepk «n4 flat as they, u^ wititout confict-
ing or supplying tbeir faults and defectsy Irhich I
bave discovered by thi» comparkcm«
A man had need have agood strong bacfc, to keep Modem
pace with these people. The indiscreet scribWers ot^^^'J^I^"^
our age, who fbitt into their worthless productioits poverty of
whole paragraphs from the ancient authors, to give ?y' p^^g!*
thc»as^ves a r^utatiotl, act in a quite contrary sDan<-iDK the aa-
tier; for the innnite dissimilitiide of ornaments ren*^^^'^^'
der the complexion of their own compositions so
pale^ sallow, and deformed, that they lose muck
more than the^ g»n by it« The philosophers Chryw
appus and Epicurus were itl this respect of quite op»
posite humours ^ Chrysippus not only mixed passages
out of oth^r authors in his books, but entire pieces ;
and in one^ the whole Medea of Euripides ; which
gave Apollodorus occasion to say,* that were a man
to pick out of his writings all that he had stolen £rom
others, his paper would be a mere blank. Epicurus^t
on the contrary, in SOd volumes that he has left be-
hind him, has not so much as one quotation. I hw-
pened the other day to light upon a French book,' m
which, after I had been dragged a good while overa
number of words, soKfeless, so bald, and so void of
all substance and meaning, that, in truth, they were
only French words ; after a long and tedious travel,
I met at last with a piece that was rich, suMime, and
elevated to the very clouds, of which, had I foun4
the declivity easy, or the ascent a little more acCessi*
ble, it had been excusable : but it was so steeps a pre*
cipice, and so detached from the rest of the work,
that, by the six &st words, I found myself ilyine
into the other world, and, from thence, discovered
the bog, from whence I came, so deep and low, that
I had not the heart to descend down to it ai^ more.
If I were to stuff one of my discourses with such
ridi moils as these, it would only the more expose
the n^edness of ^e others. To find fiiult with othen
* Diogenes Laertius, in ilie Life of Cfapipp^, lib. tiL s«€j(»
t Idem, b tiie Life of E^kwufli. life Xr isct. fll^
m2
IM OF TH£ EDUCATION
f^r what I am guilty of myself, appears to me bit
mpre inconsistent. than to condemn, as I often do,^
. th94^«ults of others in myself. They are to be ever
reproved, apd ought to have no sanctuary allowed-
theiQ.;.ye.t I know how. confidently I myself make,
bold at^very turn, to set my style on a level with what
I steal from other authors, ai^d to make it keep pace
with tjhem, npt without the rash presumption, that I
shalj be able so to impose on the jud^ent of my,
" readers^* and that they will not be able to discern the
difiere;i)ce ; but this is as much owing to my applica^
tion, as to my invention and capaci^. Be^des, I
dp R9t wrestle with Uie whole body of those veteran^
herpes, nor with any pne of them singly ; it is only
by gentle ^skirmishes that I engage them. I am not:
dipgbiatical but by their mettle, and do not ensaffe
so far as I make a show of doing : yet if I could hold
thepi taCk I were a brave fellow ; fin* I never assault
them on the weakest side. For ,a man to cover him-
self (as I have seen some do) with another's armour,
SQ as not to let his fingers' ends be seen ; to carry on
his design (as it is easy for scholars to do in a com-
mon aflair) under old. inventions patched up, and
then endeavour to concesU the p^igiarism, and to,
make it pass for his own, is in the first place mjustice
and meanness of spirit in such men, who, having no-
thi.ng;of yalue of their own to recommend them, seek
ta graft a reputation entirely upon the stpck pf others^
In the next place, it is ridiculous folly to content
themselves witii the ignorant approbation of the vul?
gar, by such a pitiful fraud, and be disparaged by
men of understanding, the only persons whose praise
is of any credit, who snuff with disdain at such bor-
rowed patch-work. For my own part, there is no-
thing I would not rather do than that. I only speak of
otherii that I may more expressly speak of myself, and
be informed what conduct I oii^t. to pursue.in this
*• What Montaigne here says'of'hiinsblf is strictly true ; of which
a proof may be seen in the twenty-first chapter of thb first book;;
and» upon occmipni I have ghresr others as palpable. ,
^ bFCRILDBEK. 165
point ; neither do I hereT)y in the least dance at the
professed composers of centos,* of which I have
seen some whd were very ingenious ; particularly one
of the name of Capilupusyt besides others of greater
antiquity .t These are wits, who manifest themselves
to be such, both b^that, and compositions of other
kinds^ as Lipsius, m that learned and laborious s^s^
tern q( his pmitics. ^
Be this as it will, and how trifling soever these Es^ tv Jn^g^
8^ famine are, I will frankly own I never thought J^iJl^J^
of concealing them, any more than my bald grizzled fonLorMi
pate before them, where the graver has presented ^•'*^
you not with a true, fiice, but the resemblance df
mine. For these also are but my owii paHiicular hu«
mours, and opinions ; and I deliver them as no other
^an what I myself believe^ and not for what ought
to be bdieved by odiers. I have no aim in uiis
writing, but to lay myself open, who perhaps shaQ
be of another mind to-morrow, if I am altered by
fresh instruction. I have no authority to be believed^
neither do I desire it, being conscious that I have
* This isa term given to apiece of poetry composed of versety or
the ends of Terses, taken from one or more authors^ to express any
ihing but the very thing that the verses signify in the authors from
whence they have been borrowed.
f Lelius Ci^>ilupus, a native of Mantua, who flourished in the
sixteenth century, was famous for compositions of this kind, as may
be seen under his name in Bayle's Dictionary, who says tliat the
. /cento which he. wrote agunst the motiks, is inimitable ; it is to be
found at the end of the Regnum Papisticum of- Neogeorgas. He
wrote one sSso against the women, wnich Mr. Bayle also mentions
•as a very ingenious piece, bvet toA satirical. It was inserted in. a
oollection entitled Baudii Amores, printed at Leyden m 1638. This
Ifclius had a nephew named Julius Copiiupus, who signalized«hiro-
self by centos, and even had a talent for it superior to his uncle, if
we may. believe Pessevin. Poet. Select lib. 17, 24. But let Mon-
taigne, Bayle, and Possevin, sa^ what they will, it is a happiness
for learning that compeations of this sort, the style of which cannot
)but be fuU of expressions, hfursh, improper, and dogmatical, are
neglected.
. t As the centos of Ausoniiis, composed wholly out of the vevm
irf Virgil .
169 07 THE EDOCATIOV
out been instructed w^ enw^ xay%e]£ to teaA m^
other. ,
m opi- • A friend of tnine, therefore* hnyiiig rend the fore«
?t?nin(?°h«'8wng chapter the other day,, told me at my owa
rducatioD house, that I should have ealaiged « little more oa
^^'^*"''"- the education of children^ . Now, madam, if I have
a talent equal to jthe taal(, I could not empk^ it bet*
ter than to devote it to the little gentleman, who ta
like, ere loDja;, to ,be the /happy iswe of your body ^
(joa being oftpo good blood to begin ^^erwise thaa '
mth It m^S^). Eor having had 90 great a band in you '
marriage; tr^ty, I have a certain right and interest
m the grandeur and prosperity of the issue that sbaQ
jqptring iaom.it ; besides that the lon^ claim you have
l^td to my sendee, sufficiently obliged. me to wish
honour and happiness to bJI that you have a value
for. But, in truth, what I mean by it is this ; tliat
the thing of the greatest .difficulty and imj^rtance to
human science, is the nurture and education of chil-
dren. As in agriculture,, the methods to 'be taken
before planting are, as well as the planting itself, cer«*
tain and easy, but after that which is planted cornea
to take root and shoot up, there is a. great deal of
trouble and difficulty in raising it ; so it is with the
human race.* The getting erf children requires n*'^
•great industry ; but after tney bonif then, begins the
' trouble, anxiety, and care of tr^iining and bringing
Jthem up.
The ^emt Thc displav of their inclinations is so fiiint and so
^^^^n^^jOb^^f^ at this tender age, and what they seem to
the first acr promise is SO Uncertain and £allacious, that it is ex*
chiwrei treraely difficult to form any solid judgment of them^
yf^i they as Cimon, Themistpcles, and a thousand Others, who
iH^JliSier, have become very different mw from what people
* This, which teems so natiiMl asentimeni,' is takati from one of
Plato's Diaipgues, entitled H^es^, w)iof« a ftther applying with
his son to Socrates^ to consult him to whom he shoula put his 90a
for education, oisde thcTv^ry same ranark as Mo&taigne has in this
place. See PlatQ in Theages, p, 88, pointed a| Frankfort, 4to, 460ik
«x0e<*ted; Cubs ctf beaY^^^ftfHl piQif^ mikte a
fuU di§bo¥eTy of thek harttu^ inclinatumd?; but rneif^
as soon B!» grown tip, applyikg Aemsel^Bs td 'certaiia *
usf^es, of»tiiotfsr;* and laws, easily alter, or at lesLSt
dKgtiise, theif tesl inclinafieils. And yet it is diflU
cult' to force natural propiensity; whence it comes tof
pass, thit, fbr want xn having cfabsen die riglit
course, a nMn often takes very ^reat pains, and
spends grMf fwft of his lift^ in training up children to
things for which they are altotfedier unfit; In this
difficulty, nevertheless^ I am ciearijr of opnnaoa, that
they ought to be initiated in the hkt and most pro^
ftabie studies, and that fitdbheedoOgfet to be^ett
«o those i^gbt ptesages «id progtfostictttioiis which
we happen to conceive of idmo in their tendev yews,
on which Pkto, m hh R^fdilic, sewns, niethinl^
to lay too moeh stfesKS.
As for learning, it is c^rti^Iy, madam^ a great or what
ornament, and a qualiificatioil of woifderfhl ^ervict^^^^^
especially to persons raised to sudi a degree c^ for-^
tune as your ladyship. But it has not its proper us0
in persons of mean and low circiimstaitees, it being
moreforwardto assirt iiitbecah-iying on of war, in the
government of people, and in negotiating aUiances
with a foreign pnnce or nation, tmui to form a syllo«>
psm in logic, to jplead im Appeal, or to prescribe a
oose of phy!a<;. wherefore, madam, beheving you
will not omit this so necessary an article in the educa-
tion <^your descendants, as you yoursdf have tasted
li^ sweets of it, and are of learned extraction, (for we
«lill have the writings cf the ancient counts de Foix^
firomrf whom both the coont your husband and you are
descended; and M. def Caadale, your uncle, every
day obl%es the world with others, which will extend
Ae knowledge <tf this quaEty in your family to numy
succeeding ages), I ^loll, upon this occa^on, men-
tion a pairticiuar fimcy of my own, ccmtrary to the
common practice, and this i^ all that I am abfo
to contribute for your ladyship's service in this par-
ticular.
tfiS or .THE EDUCATIOK
'?* ""5?!f The charge of the governor you shall appomt for
cdncatioQ JOUT soHy upoH the choice oi whom the success of
^p^^J{^»iiis education entirely depends, consists of several
ofV^om-branches, which I shall not touch upon, as being un-
^^' able to fUld ari^ thing valuable to them ; and as to
that on which I take upon me to grve him my advice,
he may follow it so far, and no fiuther, than he thinks
it plausible or rationaL For a boy of quality, then,
who covets learning not for gain (foriK) mean a yiew
as that is unworthy of the grace and &vour c^ the
Piuses, besides that it has a &reign regard and. de-
pendence), nor so much for the profit of othcpas
KT his own, and to furnish and ennch himiadf within,
having rather a desire to turn out a man of abilities
than a mere scholar^ I would advise his ^jends to he
carefiil of choosing him a tutor who is a man pf a
good head-piece, rather than a perfect book-worm,
though: bow judgment and learning are requisite,
\ but manners and understanding rather than. science ;
. \^ and that his tutor should pei;form this office in a new
' method.
Thetatoror The custom of tutors is, to be continually thup*
to Mkl?''* dering in their pupils' ears, a3 if they were pouring
him f peftk jnto a fuiiuel, and our task is only to repeat what they
^L^^dbave said to us before. I would have the tutor to
SS^^fcSr ^^""^^ *^8 fault, and that, at the very firdtj he
' should, according to the capacity of the lad he has
to manage, begin to put it to the te$U by permitting
his pupil himsehf to taste things, and to choose anddis*
tinguish them, sometimes opening the way for him,
' and sometimes not. What I mean.is, that he should
^ not invent and speak all himself, but tlmt he ^ould
ako hear his pupil speak in turn. !!$ocrates, and af«
terwards Arcesilaus, made their scholars, speak first,
and then they spoke to them ; Obest plerumque m
-qui discere voluntj authoritas eorum qui docent:^
'** The authority of diose who teach^ is very often a
^( detriment to those who desire to learn.'' It is pro^
* Cic. de Nat* Deprunii Hb. L cap. 5«
* OF CHILDBE9. 169
per that he should put him upon a trot, like a youiig
Aorse, before him, that he may judge of his capacity,
and how much he is to abate of his own pace, to ac-
commodate himsetf to that of the other. For want
of this due proportion we spoil all ; and to Imow
how to 'choose, and to keep within the exact xheo-
gure, IS one of the hardert tasks that I know. A
man of a sublime genius, and strong parts, knows
liow, and when to form, indulge, or condescend to
these puerile motions, and to guide them. I walk
firmer and more secure up hill than down ; and such
as, according to our common way of teaching, un*
dertake with one and the same lesson, and the same
method of instruction, to manage sevieral geniuses
of such di^ent, sizes and. capacities, no wonder if
in a multitude of children there ane scarce two or
three to be met with, who are the better for their
discipline. The tutor should not only examine him
as to the words of his lesson, but as to their meaning
and import ; and should judge of the improvement
he has made in his learning, not by the testimony of
his memory, but by that of his* conduct. Let him
exhibit his lesson in a hundred views, and accommo-
date it to. as many different subjects, in order to
sefe if he yet rightly comprehend it, and is master of
it, forming his. progress by the model of those ad-
mirable institutions in the Dialogues of Plato. It is
a sign of crudity and indigestion to disgorge any
thing in the same form it was swallowed ; and the
stomach has not performed its office, if it has not al-
tered the figure and ^hape of what was committed to
it for concoction. So our minds take things upon
trust, while they are constrained to follow other
men's fancies. We have been so subjected to the
trammel, that we have no free pace of our own ;
our vigour and liberty are extinct, Nunquam tuteUt
Muajiunt r*. " They are ever in wardship, and never
f^ eigoy their own." I had a private interview at
♦ Senec. Ep. 33.
170 OF TfiE EDUCATION
Pin with aniionekt man, but so grait an Aristotefisn;
that his general thesis was, ^' That die toncfastonci
^ and stajidard of all solid imaginations, and of all
^truths, was their coi^innity to the doctrine of
^ Aristotle ; that all blesides was vain and chimeric
^cal; for that he had seen all, andsaid afl." This
position, by being interpreted in too free and ii^uri^
ous a sense, brought and kept him a long time in great
danger of the inquisition at Rome, liet the tutor
make his pupil thoroughly sift every tinng he reads,
and lodge nothing in ms fancy upon mere «ithority«.
Let the principles of Aristotle be no more prindplea
to him than those of die Stoics or Epicureans, only
let this diversity of opinions be laid nefore him ; he
win himself choose if he be aUt, if not, he will
lenain in doubt :
Che non menche saper dubiar m*aggradaJ^ i. e.
There is sometimes a merit in doubting, as well as in kxiowlng.
For if he embrace the opinions of Xenophon and
Plato, by his own discourse, they will be hd longer
theirs, but his. He that foUowa another, fiiHowi
nothing, finds nothing, nay does not seek for any
thing. Non sumus wb rege^ siln qmsque se vindU
C€t .? ^ We are not und^ kingly ffovwmnent, let
^ every man be at his own dis^iolsu/' Let him at
least know that he knows. ' It wiH be neeeasary that
he imbibe their juices, but not that he would learn
their maxims; and no matter if he forget from
whence he derived them, provided he knows how to
appropriate them to his own use. Truth and reason
are common to all men, and are no more his who
first declared them, than his who declared them
afterward. It is no more according to Plato than
according to me, since both he and I understand and
perceive in the same manner* Bees suck theikiwers
here and there where they find them, but make their
honey afterwards, which is all and purdy their own^
* Dante inferno. Canto 11^ ren 9S« i Seneca, £p. 38.
tend no loo^r thyme and marjomn. So wilt the poi*
pU transform and blend the several fir^fi^ents he bor*
rowed from others, in order to compUe a work that
ahall be altogether his own ; that is to say^ his judgw
meot, hts instruction, his labour, and study are to be
whoUy employed in forming such a work. He is
not obUged to discover the sources from whence he
had the least assistance, but only to produce what
lie -himself has composed. Men that live upon pilr
lage and mortgages, make a show of their buildings,
mod their purchases, but do not discover how and
vhere they had the money. You do not see the fees
taken by a member of the parliament (of I^ffis),l)ut
YOU see the alliances with which he has strengthened
kis fiimily, and the honours he has obtained for hit
children. No man accounts to the public for his re-
venue, but every one publishes his purchases.
The end of study is to become better and wiser. w4t
It is (said Epicharnws*) the understanding that^^^^^^J
aees and hears; it is the understanding that turns «t«d^
every thing to advantage, that orders every thing,
and that acts, rules, and reigns. All other things '
are blind, deaf, and lifeless* But certainl]^ we ren^
der it timorous and cowardly, in not allowing it the
liberty to do any thing of itself. Who ever asked
his pupil what he thought of rhetoric and grammar,
or of such and such a sentence of Cicero ! They
aM stuck fuU'feathered into our memory, like oracles,
of which the letters and the syllables are of the sub*
stance of the thing. To know by rote, is no know*
ledge ; it is only a retention of what is entrusted td
the memory. That which a man truly knows may be
disposed of without regard to the author, or refe-
rence to the book ftom whence he. had it. A stock
of mere bookish learning is a sad stock indeed ! I
* It 18 tho genera] odihioq of the learned, that Epicharmus had
this passage in a book wolch be wrote upon the nature of tbings, cf
whicn there are only some fragments left. We find it also in the
Stromates of Clement Alexandrin. lib. ii, in Plutarch, de Solertla
Animaliuwa p^ 961, printed at Paris ia 1628, and in other books*
172 ' OF THE EDUCATION
grant tiiat it may serve for an ornament, but not for
a foundation, according to the opinion of Plato,
wiio says, that true philosophy is compounded of
constancy, faith, and sincenty, and that the other
fences, that are directed to other views, are only
counterfeits^. I could wish that Palud or Pompey,
those famous dancing-masters of .my time, could
have taught us to cut capers by only peeing them da
it, without ever stirring from our seats, as these men
pretend to improve our. understanding, without ex-
ercising it; or that we had learned to ride, handle a
pike, touch a lute, or sing, without the trouble of
practice, .as these pretend to make us think and
speak wdl, without exercising either our judgment
*er voice. Now, while we are learning, whatsoever
•presents itself before Us^ is a book sufficient ; the un-
luckiness of a page, th^ blunder of a footman, or
table-talk, are so many new sulgects.
The vmuy For this reason, an acquaintance with the world,
ifar^'*' and visiting foreign countries, is of wonderful ser-
ymmn sen. vice, not to bring back, as most of our noblesse do,
^**"*^ an account of how many paces Santa Rotunda is in
compass, ot of the richness of Signiora Livia's linen
drawers ; or, as some others, how much Nero's &ce
in a statue, in such an old ruin, is longer or broada^
than that stamped on some medal; but to be able
chiefly to give an account of the humours and cu^
.toms of those nations which they have visited, and
that we may polish our wits by rubbing them upon
•those of others,
whena * I would havc a lad sent abroad very young, and
fi^"**^ (principally, in order to kill two birds with one stone)
should bf^-into those neighbouring nations whose language is
flul*" ,^ .roost different from our own, and to which, if it be
not formed betimes, the tongue cannot bend» It is f
also an opinion universally received, " That a child
." should not be brought up in his mother's lap."
The natural affection of parents mak&s even the dis-
creetest of them all so overfbnd, that they cannot
find in their hearts either to chastise tliem for their
0F CfilLDBEK. ^ 173
&ults» nor can they bear to see them sufier hardship9
and hazards, which they ought to be brought up in.
They could not endure to see them come home from
their exercises all in dust and sweat, to drink cold
water when they are hot,^nor to see them mount an:
unruly horse, or to fight with sword and pistol ; . and
yet there^ is no remedy ; for it is certain, that who- .
ever hopes to make a lad turn out a brave man, must
by no means spare him in his youth, and must oflken
transgress the rules of physic:. .
Vttamque sub dioy et tirepides agat •
In rebus,*
He must sliarp cold and scorching heat despise,
Defybg danger where most danger lies.
IJeither is it enough to inspire him with courage, but
care must be taken also to give hiiii strength of mus-
cles. The soul will, be too much oppressed if not
seconded by the body, and would have too hard a
task to discharge two offices alone. I know, to my
sorrow, how much mine groans under the burden,
being accommodated with a body so tender and de-
licate, as to bear upon it too hard ; and often per*
ceive in my reading, that our masters, in their wri-
tings, make examples pass for those of ma^animity
and courage, which they should rather ascribe to the
thickness of the skin, and the hardness of the bones;
for I have seen men, women, and children so formed
by nature, that they could bear a bastinadoing better
than I could a fillip of a finger j and that, when they
were soundly drubbed, would neither cry out, nor
wince. Thus, when wrestlers imitate the philoso; f
phers in patience, it is owing rather to their strong /
sinews, than to their stout hearts. Now to be inured
to undergo labour, is to be accustomed to endure
grief. Labor , callum obducit dolor i.-f "Labour
** hardens us to bear grief, by makitig it callous."
A boy is to be broke to the toil by severity of ex*
* Horat. lib. iii. Ode ii. ver. 5, 6.
t Cic Tuac Quest lib. iL G»f. !$•
I?4 6v TH£ imycAfio^
erciseSy in order to fit him fw bearit^ ^ pilin atitf
smart of dislocations, colics, caustics, and even
of imprisonment and torture $ for it may be his mis*
fortune to be exposed even to the worst of these,
which, according as times are, may be the lot of the
good as well as of the bad. Of this tireare a pro<^
Whoever firiits against the laws, threatens all honest
men with the lash and halter. And, moreov^, by
the young man's bemg kept at home, the authority
of his governor over him, which ought to be flove«
reign, is interrupted and checked by the presence of
the parents. Add to this, that the respect paid him
by tne family, and his consideration of the greatness
he is heir to, are, in my opinion,, no small inconve-
niences at that age.
Modesty While we thus learn to converse with mankind, I
Jfry tT**"^2ive often observed this vice, that instead of taking
youOi. due hints from others, we only make it our business
to lay ourselves open to them, and are at more pains
to exhibit our own stock, than to lay in new. Si-
lence and modesty are veir advantageous qualities in
conversation. The lad therefore should be taught
hot to be too profuse of the talent which he has ac«
auired, and not to take exceptions at every silly stoiy
lat is told in his hearing ; for it is rudeness to carp
at every thing that is not agreeable to our taste. Let
him ttunk it sufficient to conceit himself, and not
seem to reproach another for not doing that which
he refuses to do himself, nor act counter to the com-
mon customs. Licet sapere sinepompaj sine invidia :*
Let him be wise without ostentation, or contracting
envy. Let him avoid that unpolite mimicking d[
authority, and that puerile ambition of appearing
more refined, to be thought otherwise than ne really
is, and as if reproofs and interruptions, though so
disagreeable, were not to be omitted, with a view of
deriving from thence some singular reputation. M
it is the sole prerogative of great poets to make use
* Senec Epist 103r
r «F CHItBItEN. . 175
nf Ae tpetica ticentia^ so it is intolerable that an^
but sublime and celebrated genuises should be pn-
vileged above the authority of custom. & quid
S0crat€$ et . ArUtippus contra morem et cansuettu
dimmfecenmtj idem sibi ne arbitratur licere: magi^
enim iilij et divifus bonis hancUcentiamas$equebantur:^
'^ If Socrates and Aristippus transgressed the rules
*^ of custom, let him not imagine niat he may take
^ the. same liberty, for their great and sublime
'^ virtues rendered that sort of privil^e excusable ia
^^ them/' He should be taught never to enter into
eonversation or controversy, but ^ere he meets
-with an. antagonist ^irw&y dT engaging ;^ and, even
with such, not to make use of all the sophistiy that
may be of service to him, but only such turns as
may be of most use to him upon the occasi<m. Let
him be charged to. be nice in the choice of his argu-
ments, to abominate impertinence, and consequently
to n&xt conciseness. Above all, let him oe upi-
atructed to acquiesce,* and submit to truth, as soon
as ever he shall be convinced of it, whetherby his
opponent's arguments, or upon better consideration
m ius own ; ibr he should never be preferred to the
dnur fiir muttering a set form of words, nor engaged
in any cause wJuch he does not approve. Neque ut
omnia^ qua prascripta et imperata nnt^ dejendat^
necesntate ulia coptur ;t ^* Neither is he obliged,
** by any sort of necessity, to defend every thing
^ mat is prescribed or enjoined to him.''
If the governor be of my humour, he will form They o«sbi
his pupil to be a very loyal subject to his prince, very U^jJ^^Ji
afiectionate to his person, and very courageous in the sovc
quarrel ; but, withaif he will damp any ambition he ^Jf^eTol^
may have to attach himself to his service by any other attadied t»
engagement than public dut^. For besides maayp\"y^^^
other inconveniences that are injurious to our liberty, «t court.
« man's judgment :being prepossessed by these parti-
* Cic.- de Offic. 4ib. i. cap. 41.
-.. . . f Cie^ Ae^ Qmesi. Hb. XT. c«p. S.
n$ OF THE EmJCAtlOK
cular obligations, is either divided and citrsmped, of
is stained with indiscretion and ingratitude. A man,
that is a perfect courtier, can neither have the power
nor the will to speak and think ollierwise than &*
vourably of a master, who, out of so many thousands
of his subjects, has singled him to maintain and
prefer with his own hands. This favour, and the
benefit flowing from it, must needs, and not without
some reason, spoil his freedom of speaking, and cast
a mist before his eyes : and we commonly find the
language of such people, quite different from that of
others of the same nation, and that it does not dCi-
serve much credit, when it treats of afl&irs relating
to the court and the prince.
Ajad most Let his couscicnce and his virtue be conspicuous
Jj^j^^'^^in his discourse, and have reason only for their guide;
cerity. Make him understand tliat his own confi^ssion of any
mistake, which he may discover in what he says,
though none perceive it but himself, is an^efieet of
judgment and sincerity, which are the principal qua^
lifications he aims at; that obstinacy and wrai^^g
are common qualities, which are most to be disco^
vered in sordid souls. That to recollect and correct
himself, and to give up a bad cause in the warmth
of his dispute, are great and uncommon philoso-
phical qualities. \ .
nemmtbe Hc must bc adviscd, when he is in company, to \
^^^l^n ^*^® ^ ^y^ ^^ every comer of the room ; ror I find
company, that the cnicf seats are commonly taken by men of
tw^to**'^tihi® least capacity, and that the greatest fortunes are
every thing not always accompauicd with abilities. I have been /
d^ne.^ present where, wnile those at the upper end of a
table have been admiring the beauty of the tapestry^
or commending the flavour of the sack, they, have
lost many fine things said at the lower end of itk
Let him sifl every man's talent : from a herdsman, a
mason, or a passenger, a man may pick outsome^
thing of what every one deals in, to treasure in his
memory ; and even the folly and weakness of others
will contribute to his instruction. By a close obser*
OF CHILDREN. 177
tatioQ of the gracea and fashions of all he sees, he
will create to himself an emulation of the good, and
contempt of bad .men.
/ Let an honest curiosity be suggested to his fkacy He onjrbt
/ of being inquisitive after every, tlnng; and whatever gpi^edwuh
is rare and singular in bis neighbourhood, let him see a laodabie
it; be it a structure, a fountain, or a remarkable *^"^*°"*^"
man, the field of a battle fought in ancient days, the
expedition of Caesar, or Charlemain :
Qius tellus sit lenta ^elu, quce piitris al cesiu,
renins in Italiam qiiis bene velaferat.*
What lands are frozen, what are parch' d, explore.
And what wind blows on the Italian shore.
. Let him inquire into the manners, revenues, andrheirreiit
aUiaiices of princes. Things that are very (feasant 1^^"^?^'^
to learn, and as useful to know. In this acquaint- from the
ance with mankind, I chiefly include those who live tx^lryl
only in historical memoirs. He will, by the help of
^ch histories, get acquainted with the great geniuses
of the best ages. It is a vain study, I confess, ioi
those who do not apply .closely to it, but to UiQse
who do, it is a study ox inestimable benefit, and tibe
only one, as Plato reports, which the Laced^smoniaqs
reserved to themselves. What profit will not the
pupil gain in this respect, by reading the lives of
rlutarch ? But let his governor remember what is
the true end of his lessons, and that he do not so
much imprint in his pupil's memory, the date of the
ruin of Carthage, as the manners of Hannibal and
Scipio ; nor so much what place Marcellus died at,
as why it was unworthy of nis duty that he should
die there. Let him not take so much pains to teach
him the narrative part of histories, as to. form his
judgment of them, which, in my opinion, is the thing
that we apply ourselves to, with the mo^t difierent
measures. I have read a hundred things in Titus
Livius,' that has escaped tlie observation of others,
* Pjcgpert. lib. iv. ekg. 3, v. 39, 40.
VOL. I. N
178 OP tHE EDtfCATlON
afid Plutarch has read a hundred more there, besides
what I was able to discover, or than perhaps that
author ever inserted in his book. To some it is
merely a grammar study ; to others, the very anatomy
of philosophy, by which the most abstruse parts of
human nature are penetrated into. There are, in
Plutarch, many long discourses well worthy of atten-
tion; for, in my opinion, he is the greatest master
in that kind of writing; but there are a thousand
particulars, which he has only glanced upon, where
he only points with his fingers, which way we may
go if we please ; and he contents himself sometimes
with only giving a hint, in the most delicate part of
his discourses, from whence we are to pluck out
what deserves the public consideration: for example,
where he says,* '* That the inhabitants of Asia came
^ to be vassals to one man, only because they were
** not able to pronounce the single syllable, na"
Which saying of his, gave matter and occasion to
Boetius,t to write his tract of Voluntary Servitude,
where he makes a whole discourse in examining the
trivial action of a man's life, or inquiring into a word
that does not seem of importance enough to deserve
it. It is a pity that men of understanding should so
much affect brevity. No doubt that it is some advan-
tage to their reputation, but we are losers by it
* In his Treatise of False Modesty, ch. vii. of Amyot's Trans-
latioh.
f This was Montaigne's friend, of whom I shall have occasion to
say more elsewhere. His name was Stephen Boetius, and he com*
posed that Book of Voluntary Servitude^ which is here montjoned
by Montaigne, and of which We shall find him discoursing more par-
ticularly in the twenty-seventh chapter of this book, under the artide
of Friendship. One thin^ very surprising is, that in all the editions
which I have consulted, mstead of Boetius we read Boeqtia, a coun-
try of Greecb; and that in all those which have short marginal
lemmas of what is contained in the pages, we are told, upon account
of this passage in Plutarch, that this country of Greece voluntarily
submitted to slavery ; a fatal accident, which care has been taken to
point out in the margin, by tiiese words, which are by no means
equivocal. ^* The voluntary slavery of the Boeotians." Thus a
very material conftision has arisen from a small error in typogn^hy.
5f CMILDRB^J 179
{lutltrch had rather "We should applaiid his judgment ,
than his knowledge, and chose rather to leave ua
with an appetite ^an a surfeit. He knew thftt too
much might be said eveii on good subjects; stnd that
Alexandrides justly reproached him. Who made very
pertinent) but too long, speeches to the Ephorl, by
saying,* " O stranger ! thou speakest what thoii
*' oughteSt to say, as to the matter of it, but not in
*^ the due manner/' Such as have but little flesh on
thelir bones, stuff themselves out with clothes \ so
they who have & scanty subject to treat of^ swell it
out with words.
IThe human understanding is Wotiderfully dulight^ conversai
cned by conversing with the world ; for we are of |j,°\* ^4
ourselves stupid, and short-sighted^ One asking contri.
Socrates of what country he was, he did not make J^'JJ^'t^''^^
answer, ** Of Athens,'* but, *« Of the world.''t He, form onf
who had the richest and the most extensive imagina-''"*'*"""^
tion, was fond of calling the whole world his country^
and extended his acquaintance, Sodiety, and friend-
ship to all mankind, not as we do, who look no far-
ther than the ground we stand on. When the vines
of the village where I live are nipped with the frosty
our priest immediately infers, that the wrath of God
is kmdled against the. human race, and judges that
the GannibaJs have already got the pip. To see our
civil wars, who is there tnat does not cry out, that
the machine of the world is turned topsy-tifrvy, and
that the day of judgment is just at hand, without
considering that many worse things have hapi)enedf
and that for all this, people are very joyous in teil
thousand other parts of this earth ? For my part^
considering the licentiousness and impunity oi the
times^ I wonder that there is no more mischief-done.
To him who feels the hail-stones patter about his
ears, the whole hemisphere appears to be in a storm
* HutarcK in the notable sayings of the Lacedflononians.
f Cic. Tu8c Qusest. lib. v. cap. 37, and Ptutarch, in hil Dk-
isourse on Banishment, cap. 4i
180 OF THE EDdCATIOl/
;aad tempest ; like the ridiculous Savoyard, who said
very gravely, that, if that simple king, of France
.coiud have managed his fortune well, he might in
time have been steward of tlie houshold to his duke.
The fellow, in his sliallow imagination, could not
icon6eive any grandeur superior to that of his master.
In truth, we are all of us guilty of this error, an
error of no small consequence and prejudice. But
whoever represents to himself, as in a picture, that
freat image of our mother Nature, pourtrayed in
er AiU majesty, whoever reads^n her fac« ao general
and constant a variety, whoever observes himself in
that figure, and not himself only, but a whole king-
dom no bigger than the least point made by a pencil^
in coiquparison of the whole, that man alone estimates
things according to their true grandeur.
The world/ This great world, which some do net scruple to
th?yo^^ multiply as several species under one genus, is the
book ( P*^^'^^'^ ^" which we ought to view ourselves, in order
\ to discover the true bias. In ^ort, I would have
J this to be the book for niy schqlj^^to Mu^^^ ; for so
many humours, sects, judgments, opinions, laws,
and customs, teach us to judge solidly of our own,
and inform our understanding how to discover its im-
perfection and natural infirmity, which is a lesson of
no little importance. So many turns and revolutions
of state, and the fortune of the public, will teach
us to make no great wonder at our own^ So many
great names, so many victories and conquests buried
in oblivion, render our hopes ridiculous of eternalizing
our fame, by the taking of half a score light horse^
men and a paltry turret, which hadnever been heard
of, if it had not been demolished. The pride and
arrogance of so many foreign pomps and ceremonies,
the conceited majesty of so many courts, and so
much grandeur, inure and strengthen our sight to
behold the lustre of our own, without dazzling our
eyes. So many millions of men buried befbr^ us,
encourage us not to fear the going to join such good
OF CHILDEEN. Iftl
company in the other world ; and 8o of every thing
else. I^rthaeoras used to say,* That our life makes
a retreat to me great and populous assemblies of the
Olympic games, wherein some exercise the body in
order to acquire the glory of winning the prize, and
others carry merchandise to sell for pont. There
are some (and those none of the worst) who propose
no other advantage than onl^ to look on, and con-
sider, how and why every thing is done ; and to be
spectators of the lives of other men, in order Ihere-
'by to judge and regulate their own.
B^ examples might properly be taught the most The acience
profitable discoiu^es of philosophy, by which idl^^iluS^iife
human actions ought to be regulated and directed. onsi>t to be
He should be instructed ^»tH in
the miodt
Quid fas optare, ^uid asf>€r of children.
Utile nrimmus habet, patrlce chamqite propmquis
Qiianium etargiri deceat ; qMem te Dens esse
Jussiij et kumana qua parte locatus es in re,t
QuidsumuSi out quidnamvicturi gignimnr^X
What man may wish, what's money's proper lise,
What are our country's, and our neighbour'^ dues ;
W}iat God commands an honest man to be.
And here on earth to know in what degree
God has him plac'd, and what we are, and why
He gave us being and humanity.
what knowledge is, and what it is to be ignorant ;
what oiight to be the aim of study ; what valour,
temperance, and justice are ; the difference between
ambition and avarice, servitude and subordination,
licentiousness and liberty; the marks whereby to
know what is true and solid contentment ; how far
death, sorrow, and disgrace may be dreaded :
Et quo quemque modofugiatqueferaique lahrem.^
How labour to avoid, or how sustain.
By what spnngs we move, and the reason of bur va-
* Cic. Tusc Qusst. h*b. v. cap. 3. f Pers. Sat iii. v. 69.
X Montaigne has put this verse last, which in Persius^oes before
the others, and is the 67th. • § Virg, JE/neid. lib. in* set. 459.
18^ OP THE EDUCATIOlf
rious inclinations. For, methinks, tHe first lessons
with which the youth's understanding ought to be
seasoned, should be such as regulate his manners and
his sense, which will instruct him to know himself,
and how to live well, and die well. Among the
liberal sciences, let us begin with that which makes
us free,* though they all conduce, in some degree,
to the instruction and use of life, as all other tmngs
also do in some respect or other ; but let us choose
that which directly and professedly serves to that end.
Were we once able to restrain our appetites within
their just and natural limits, we should find that the
greater part of the sciences would be useless to us,
and that, even in such as are most essential, there
ure many very unnecessary breadths and depths
which we were better to let alone, and, according
to the direction of Socrates,t limit the course of
pur studies to those thipgs ^^hich ^e of real adl^
vantage r
III ■■ — Sapere aude !
Incipe: v'wendi qui recie profrogat horamf
Rusticus expeciat dum dejtuat anmisy at iUe
Laliturj et labetur ifi arnne votubilis CBvum.X
Dare to be wise ; and now
Begin. The man who has it in his pow'r
To practice virtue, and protracts the hour.
Waits, like the clown, to see the brook run low.
Which careless flows, and will for ever flow.
It is a great folly to teach our children
£utd rruweant Pisces, animosaque signa Lemis,
otuSj et Hesperia quid Capricornus aqtia.§
* Unum studlum vere liberale est quod liberum facit. Senec.
Epist. 83.
f Diogenes Laertius in the Life of Socrates, lib. ir. sect 21.
Socrates primus philosophiam devocavit h coclo, et coegit de vita et
mpribus rebusque bonis et nialis quaerere. Cic. Tusc. Qusst.lib.v.
cap. 4. i. e. " Socrates first called down philosophy from the heavens,
^* and made life and manners, .and good and evil, the objects of it$
■** inquiry."
X Hor. lib. i. Epist. 2, ver. 40 to 4>d.
$ Propert, lib. iv. deg. 1, ver. 85, 86.
OF CHILDREN. 183
What influence Ksces, and fierce Leo have^
. Or Capricorn in the Hesperian wave.
the knowledge of the stars, and the motion of the
eighth sphere before their own.
From me, no starin heav'n's whole spangled train
Or claims attention, or augments my pain.
Anaximenes said, in a letter to Pythagoras, " Why
^* should I trouble myself in searching for the secrets
'^ of the stars, having death or slavery continually
** before my eyes ?'* For the kings of Persia were at
at that time preparing for a war against his country.
In like manner every one ought to say, " Being as-
*^ saulted, as I am, by ambition, avarice, temerity,
*^ and superstition, and having within me so many
*' other enemies of life, shall I trouble myself about
** the revolutions in the world ?" •
After he has been instructed in what will make At what
him wiser and better, he may then be entertained o^ISiu^^bl
with a view of logic, natural philosophy, geometry, imtnicted
rhetoric; and when his judgment is formed what*^**^*'
science to choose, he will soon go through it. The
way of instructing him ought to be sometimes by
discourse, and at other times by reading. Sk>me«
times his governor should put the author he judges
most proper into his hands, and sometimes give lum
the marrow and substance of his treatise, rightly pre-*
pared for his more easy digestion : and if himself be
not conversant enough in books, to select the many
fine discourses they contain, in order to accomplish
his aim, some man of learning may be associated
with the governor, who, when occasion requires^
may supply him with the stores that shall be neces-
sary for him to distribute ^nd dispense to his pupil^
Who can doubt whether this way of teaching is more
easy and natural than that of Gazce, in which th^
• Anacreon, odexvii. v^, 10 an4 U^
184 OF THE £DUCA1>I0N
precepts are so harsh and intricate, and the terms so
empty and unmeaning, that there iS no hold to be
taken of them, nothing to rouse the attention ;
whereas here the mind has somewhat to taste and
feed upon. This fruit therefore is without compari-
son the best, and will be the soonest ripe.
PhiioBo- It is a thousand pities that things are come to
fpLdtevf n such a pass in this age, that philosophy, even by
by men of mcu of Understanding, is looked upon as a vain and
w nso, and fantastical name, a thing of no ude and valu^, either
in opinion or effect ; and I think that sophistry is
tlie cause of it all, by possessing its avenues. It is
very wrong to represent it to youth as a thing in«»
accessible, and with such a frowning, grim, and
terrible aspect. Who is it that has put this pale and
hideous mask upon it ? There is nothing more gay,
airy, and frolicksome, nay, I had almost said, more
svanfaon. It preaches nothing but feasting and jol-
lity. A melancholy, thoughtful" countenance is a
sign that it does not reside there. Demetrius, the
grammarian, finding a knot of philosophers sittiug
together in the temple of Delphos, said to them,*
*' Either I am mistaken, or, by your cheerful and
^' pleasant countenances, you are engaged in no very
^' deep discourse/* To which one of them, Hera*
clean, the magician, replied, " It is for such as puz*
** zle themselves in seeking whether the future tense
^* of the verb |3axxw, has a double ^, or tJiat hunt
« after the derivation of the comparatives x^?'*'»
♦* p&iTiov, and the superlatives p^i/firo*', (3iXT4ro»5 to knit
•^ their brows whilst discoursing of their science ;
"but as to philosophical discourses^ they always
♦* divert and cheer up those who attend to them, and
f* never make them sour nor sad :
Deprendas anmi iormenta lateiUh in (V^ro
Ccrpwe^ deprendas et gaitdia: sttmit xititnnque
Inae habiium fades. \
» * Plutarch, of oracles that had ceased, ch, v,
t Juv, Sat. ix. ver. 18, 19,
OF CHILDREN* ^85
When some importadt ill disturbs the soul.
How vainly silence would our grief control ?
Not joy, nor sorrow, can be hid by art,
Our foreheads blab the secrets of our heart.
The mind of a philosopher is in such a sound state^ Joy and
that it will also contribute to the health of the bpdyi»^r;;j';j;j*'
Philosophy maked its ease and tranquillity shine so marks of
as to be discerned from without ; it forms the exter- ^**^'"'
nal behaviour according to its own mould, and con-
iequently arms the person who entertains it with a
modest assurance, a brisk active deportment, and a
contented, debonnair countenance. A constant
cheerfulness is the surest sign of wisdom, whose
State is like that of things in the regions above the
moon, always serene. It is Baraco and Baralipton
that render their disciples so dirty and smoky. It
13 not philosophy, of which they know nothing at
all but by hearsay. It is this that undertakes to
calm the tempests of the soul, and to make hunger
and thirst smile ; and this it does not by certain
imaginary epicycles, but by natural and palpable ar-
guments.
It has virtue for its aim, which is not, as thevfrtiie,itft
schoolmen say, situate upon the summit of a steep, raetw*^nd
rugged, and inaccessible hill ; for such as have ap- residence.
proached it, have found it, on the contrary, to be
seated in a fs^ir, fruitful, and flourishing plain, from
whence, it has a clear view of all thiqgs below, to
which place my one however may arrive, if he
knows the best way, through shady, verdant, and
sweetly flourishing walks, by a pleasant and gentle
descent, like that of the celestial arches. For want
of having frequented this supreme, beautiful, equally
delightful and courageous virtue, this professed and
implacable enemy to animasity, vexation, fear, and
constraint, whose guide is nature, and whose ^com-
panions are happiness and pleasure, they have^ in the
weakness of their imagination, created this .silly„
melancholy, quarrelsome, spitefiil, menacing, quaint
image of it, and placed it on a solitary rock amongst
186 OF THE EDUCATION
thorns and briars, as a hobgoblin to scare people
from it.
Jjrhuob ^^*' ^^^ governor that I would have, I mean such
r"pr«lm/a onc as knows it to be his duty to possess his pupil
«-ii to ywiih ^.{th as much, or more, aflPection than reverence for
sanii timts vlrtuc, will bc able to inform him, that the poets
«b|e*tton' have ever more accommodated themselves to the
vice. taste of the public, and will make him sensible, that
(he gods have placed sweat and toil in the cabinets
of Venus rather tlian in those of Minerva. And
when he begins to be sensible of it, by representing,
to him a Bradamanta, or an Angelica,* for a mistress
to dally with, a natural, active, generous, a mas-
culine, a manly beauty, in comparison of a sofl^
affected, delicate, artificial beauty ; the one dignified
in the dress of a hero, crowned with a glittering
helmet, the other adorned like a minx witn pearls ;
he will then judge his aflection to be masculine, if he
6hall choose quite contrary to that effeminate shep«
herd of Phrygia.
Asmyfo Such a tutor will teach him, that the value and
Jd, Md"w sublimity of true virtue consists in the facility,
t^soorce utility, and pleasure of exercising it; so far from
pitfism, being difScult, that boys as well as men, the most
simple as well as the cunning, may attain to it, and
not by force, but by rule. Socrates, its chief
favourite, totally quits forcible methods, to slip into
the more natural facility of its own progress. It is
the nursing mother of all human pleasures, which,
by rendering them just, makes them pure and safe,
by moderating them keeps in breath and appetite,
and like a kind mother, allows in abundance all
those which nature requires, even to satiety, if not
to lassitude, unless, perhaps, we choose to say, that
the regimen which prevents the toper from being
drunk, the glutton from being surfeited, the whore-
master from being p-xed, is an enemy to our
]>teasures.
* Two heroinef in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso.
OP CHILDREK. 187
/.If the virtuous man has not the cpmmon share ofThetme
fortune, he does without it, and frames himself^jJ^J^J
another altogether his own, not more fickle and un- ▼irtne,
steady. Virtue knows how to be rich, and power-
ful, and learned, and to lie upon perfrimed quilts.
It loves life, beauty, health, and honour, but its
proper and peculiar office is to know how to use those
blessings regularly, and how to part with them with*
out concern ; an office much more noble than trou-
blesome, the whole course of a man's life being,
without it, unnatural, turbulent, and unseemly. If
the pupil shall happen to be of so different a dispo-
sition, that he had rather hear a fable than a narra-
tive of a fine voyage, or some wise discourse which
he understands ; if at the beat of a drum, which ex-
cites the youthftil ardour of his companions, he turns
off to another, who calls him. to see a puppet-show,
or the tricks of a merry Andrew ; if he does not
wish, and think it more pleasant and delightful, to
return all over dust victorious from a battle, than
from the play of tennis or foot-ball with the prize of
those exercises ; I see no other remedy, but that he
be put apprentice to a pastry-cook in some good
town, though he were the son of a duke, according
to Plato's receipt, ^* That children are to be placed
*^ out, and disposed of, not according to the wealth
^^ or rank of the father, but according to their own
\ ** genius or capacity.**
Since philosophy is that which instructs us to live, Phiiow-
and that it has a lesson for infancy as well as other fj'betugbt
ages, why are not children sooner initiated into it : »och>idr«»»
Udum et molle lutum esi^ nwic^ mmc praperandus, et acri
Fingendus sine fine rota.*
Tiie clay » moist, and soft ; now, now make haste.
And form the vessel, for the wheel turns fkst.
We are taught to live when we are going out of the
world. A hundred scholars have had the p-x before
t Pers. Sat. iii. ver. 23, 24.
1$S OF THE EDUCATION'
they came to read Aristotle's lectures on temper-
ance. Cicero said, that were he to live over the
same number of years he had seen, he should never
find time to read the Lyric poets in the same manner
.as he had the books that treated of logic. * And
yet I find these cavilling sophisters still more unpro*
iitable. The child we are to train up has a great deal
less time to spare. As he ought to be under a pe-
dagogue for the first fifteen or sixteen years of his
life, the remainder of it should be spent in action.
Let us therefore employ so short a space of time in
\ the instructions that are necessary. Away with the
crabbed subtleties of logic; they are abuses by
I which our lives can- never be amended; take the
; plain discourses of philosophy ; learn * to choose and
; ri^tly to apply them ; they are more easy to be
understood than one of Boccacc's novels : a child,
,/ just come from its nurse, is much more capable of
coniprehending such plain philosophy, than of learn-
ing to read or write. Pnilosopny has discourses
\ as proper for the rising generation, as fi>r old
I age.
Aristotle 8 I am of Plutarch's opinion, that Aristotle did not
the?Mtr!ic-^^ much troublc his great disciple with the knack of
tioo of A- ibrming syllogisms, or with the eleipents of geome-
{jeGrwu. ^y^ ^ i° furnishing him with good precepts concern-
ing valour, magnanimity, temperance, and the con-
tempt of fear ; and, with this Ammunition, sent him,
whilst he was but a boy, with no more than S0,000
foot, 4000 horse, and 42,000 crowns, to conquer the
world. As fi^r the other arts and sciences, Alexan-
der, he said, honoured them much, and commend-
ed their excellency, but was not so much delighted
with them, as to be tempted with e^ desire of re*
I ducing them to practice :
■ Petite hinCf juvenesque senes^ue^
Finem onimo certum^ miserisqiie viatica canis,f
* Tliis is taken entirely from Seneca, Epist. 491
f Pers. Sat. v. ver, 64, 66.
OF CHILDREN. J §9
' May to this lesson youog and old attend.
And form their mmds to sonie sure aim and end.
Which in old age will solid comfort send.
Just 96 Epicurus said, in the beginning of his letter
to Meniceus,^ that neither the youagest should re-
fuse to philosophise, nor the oldest grow weary of it.
He that does otherwise, seems tacitly to infer, either
that it is not yet time to live happily, or that the sea-
son for it is past. . I would not, however, have the
youth confined to his book as to a prison, nor aban-
doned to the peevishness and melancholy temper of
a passionate schoolmaster. I would not have his
spirits broke by being tormented and used as some
are, like pack-horses, fourteen or fifteen hours a-day.
Neither should I think it'pff<^er, when, by reason of
a solitary and melancholy disposition, he appears to
be immoderately studious of books, that he should
be indulged in tnat humour, because it renders him
unfit for civil conversation, and diverts him from
better employments. How many men. have I seen,
in my time, totally brutified by an intemperate thirst
after knowledge ! Cameades was so besotted with it,
that he did not give himself time so much as to comb
his head, or pare his nails. t Neither would I have
the generous temper of the pupil spoiled by the inci-
vility or barbarity of that of another. The French
wisdom has been anciently proverbial, for a wisdom
that sprouted out early, but soon faded. Indeed,
we still see there are none so hopeful as the little
children of France, but they commonly disappoint
the expectation that has been formed of them, and
when they are grown up to be men arc eminent for
nothing. I have heard men of good understanding
say, that the colleges they are sent to, of which there
are abundance, make them such blockheads.
As to our young gentleman, a closet, a garden, !%iJo«4>-
the table, his bed, and company, morning and even-jJ^ni^S^
* Diog. Laerty lib. x. sect. 1^2.
f Diogenes Laertius in the life of Cameades, 111?. U sect. 6S.
190 OF THE EDUCATION
manDertjting, all hoUTs should be the same, and all places
ijMciiver alike serve for his study ; for philosophy, which, as
the improver of his judgment and manners, should
be his principal lesaon, is active every where. The;
orator Isocrates, being intreated, at a feast, to dis^
course of his art, all the company thought he gave
a right answer, when he said,* It is not now a time
to do what I can do, and that which is now the time
to do, I cannot do. For to make harangues or rhe^
toricfiJ dissertations inacompanymet togedier to laugh
and make good cheer, would have rendered it a very
disagreeable medley. But as to philosophy, that part
of it especially which treats of man, ana of his offices
and duties, it has been the common opinion of all wise
men,t that, for the relish of conversation, it ought
not to be banished from sports and entertainments^
And Plato, having invited philosophy to be a guest
at his banquet, we find in how gentle a manner, ac-
commodated both to time and place, he entertained
the company, though in a discourse of the sublimest
and the most salutary nature :
jEqu} pauperihis prodesiy loatpletihus c^cpt}^
.^Kju^ neglectum pueris senibusqve nocelnt,X
Whose precepts rich and poor alike engage,
But^ if neglecied^ hurt both youth and age.
By this method of instruction the pupil will not
have so much idle time upon his hands as others.
But as walking to and fro in a gallery, though the
steps be three times as many, does not tire us so
much as when we walk the same number of paces in
a journey, so our lesson, falling accidentally into our
way, without any obligation of time and place, and
mixing itself in all our actions, will insinuate itself
insensibly.
The cxer. Evcu cxcrciscs and recreations ought to constitute
body^u^a great part of study, such as running, wrestling
aocxcemai music, dancing, hunting, riding, and fencing, f
*Plutarch, inhisTableTalkJib. Iq. 1. f Idem, ib^
% Hor. lib. i. epitt 1» ver. 25, 26.
I
• OP childhek. 191
would have care taken of his external deportment decorum,
«nd mein, and of the setting off his person at thea^fSi/part
>. same time with his mind. It is not a soul nor a ^^ *»»««««*»-
J body alone that we are training up, but a man ; and^^*"°*
we ought not to divide him into two parts. As Plato
says, the one is not to be trained up without the
other, but they must be made to draw together like
a pair of horses harnessed to the same carriage. If we
attend to him, does he not seem to require more time
and care for the exercises of the body, and to think
that the mind exercises itself too at the same time ?
As to the rest, this method of education ought tochiidroii
be mildly conducted, not like our modem pedagogues, ^^JJ„"jJJf*
*who, instead of alluring children to their learning,.?<i to ittidy
correct, or at least frighten them with nothing bjut^^**^^'''*^*
rods and ferulas, horror and cruelty. Away with
this force ! this violence ! there is nothing, in my
opinion, so much discourages and stupifies a lad of a
good disposition. If you desire that he should be
afraid of shame and chastisement, do not harden
him to them. Inure him, as much as you will, to
sweat and cold, to wind and sun, and to dangers that
he ought to despise. Wean him from all effeminacy
and delicacy in clothes and bedding, in eating and in
drinking. Use him to every thing that he may not
be a rake and a fop, butAhaJ&L-StiwigJad I was
ever of this opinion from a child, anaemic so still.
But, amongst other things, I never liked the manage-
ment in most of our colleges, whose error, perhaps,
might not have been so mischievous, if they had
indined to the indulgent side. They are really so
many cages in which youth are shut up as prisoners,
who are therein taught to be debauched, by being pu-
nished before they become so. Do but go thither
just as their exercises are over, you hear nothing but
the. cries of children under the smart of correction,
and the bdlowiqg noise of the masters raging with ^
passion. How can such tender, timorous souls be
tempted to love their lesson by those ruby-faced
guides, .with wrath in their aspects, and the scourge
192 Of the EDUCATlOlrf
in their hands ? A wicked and pernicious forna of
proceedmgT ftiJw much more decent would it be to
see the forms on which the boys sit, strewed with
flowers and green leaves, than with the bloody twigs
of willows? I should choose to have the pictures of
joy and gladness in the schools, together with Flora
and the graces, as the philosopher Speusippus * had
in his; that where their profit is, there might be
their pleasure. The viands that are wholesome for
children ought to be sweetened with sugar, and tliose
that are hurtful to Aem made as bitter as gall. It
is wonderful to see how careful Plato is in his laws
about the gaiety and pastimes of the youth of his city,
and how he expatiates upon their races, games, soligs,
vaulting, and dancing, of which, he savs, the ancients
gave the conduct and patronage to the gods Apollo
and Minerva, and to the ^uses. He lays down not
less than a thousand rules for his exercises ; but as to
the lettered sciences he insists very little upon them,
and seems to recommend. poetry in particular only
for the sake of the music.
Every All odducss* and singularity in our manners and
J^^"ruV of conditions ought to be avoided, as an enemy to
humour gocicty. Who would not be astonished to hear that
«»nUied. Demoplioou, steward to Alexander, sweated in the
shade, and shivered in tjie sun ? t I have seen per-
sons that have run faster from the smell of apples than
from gunshot ; others that have been frightened at a
mouse ; others that vomited at the sight of cream,
and some that have done the like at the imaldng of a
feather-bed, as Germanicus, who could not bear the
sight nor the crowing of a cock. I will not deny
but, perhaps, there may have been some occult
Cause of this aversion j but, I think, if it was applied
to in time, it might be extinguished. Instruction
has so prevailed in this respect upon me (though not
without some care upon my part), that, beer ex*
' * Diogenes Laertius, in the life of Speusippus, lib. It. secL 1%
t SextuB Empyricus Pyrrh. Hypot lib. L cap. li, p. 17.
OF CHILDREK. ^ 193
cepted, my appetite is reconciled to all eatables^;
indiffereftt^ -^ -~*™^
^ Whii^ the liodies of youth are siTpple, they ought They ought
to be bent to all fashions and customs; and provided ^.t^*^*^
the appetite and the will can be kept within due aii cottons,
bounds, a young man may be safely rendered fit for co^w
all nation^ and compaoieB^ even to irregularity and with them
excess, if need be, that is in compliance to custom. JJ"^^^"^
Let him be able to do every thing, but love to do
nothing that is not good. Even the philosophers^ do
not commend Calisthenes for losing the favour of
his master, Alexander the Great, by refusing to
drink with him glass for glass. Let the pupil laugh,
play, and carouse with his prince ; nay, I would have
him in such debauches to oe too hard fi>r his compa-
Bions in ability and vigour, and that he may not
forbear doing mischief^ either for want of strengthi
or of knowledge how to do it» but &t want of th«
will* Multum interesty utrum peceare quis nolity aut
nemat :• " There is a wide difierence b^wixt
^' refusing to do evil, and not knowing how to do
^^ if t thought I passed a compliment upon a
nobleman as free from these excesses as any man in
France, by asking him before a great deal of very
good company, how often he got drunk in Germany
mr the aaxe of managing the king's business there ?
He took the compliment as it was really intended,
and made answer, three times; of which, withal, he
gave us the particular history. I know some, who^
for want of tnis faculty, have been at a great loss in
negotiating with that nation. I have oflen, with
great admiration, reflected upon the wonderfUl con-
stitution of Alcibiades, who so easily could transform
himself to such different manners, and customs,
without prejudice to his health ; one while outstrip-
ping the excessive expense and pomp of the Persians,
and at other times the austerity and frugaUfy of th6
* Stneca, Epist. 90»
VOL, !• O
194 OF THE EDUCATION
Laceddsmonians ; as reformed in Sparta, as voluptuous
in Ionia • ^
Qmnis Aristippum decuii color^ pi stahis^ et res.*
Old Aristippus every drees became,
In every state and circumstance the some,
I would have my pupil to be siich a one»
Qiiem duplici panno paiientia yelat,
* MiraboTj vita? via st conversa decebit.
Personamqueferet rum inconcinntis utrumque.f
But that a man, whom patience taught to wear
A coat that's patch'd, should evep learn to bear
A change of life with decency and ease.
May justly, I confess, our wonder raised
Yet he in ev'ry character can please^
Tliese are my lessons ; and he who puts them in
practice will be a greater gainer than he who only
knows them in theoiy. If you see him, you hear
him } if you hear him, you see him, God forbid,
says one in Plato, that to philosophise should be only
to lekrn mapy things, and to treat of the arts. Hatic
antpUssimam omnium artium bene Vivendi disciplinanij
wta magis quam Uteris persequuH sunt A ** It is
** rather by their living well, than their learning,
^ that they have devoted themselves to the most
" extensive of all arts, the discipline of a good life."
Xeo, prince of the Phliasians,]! asking Heraclides
Ponticus, what art or science he made profession of?
I know, said he, neither art nor science, but I am
a philosopher. One renroaching Diogenes, that,
being ignorant, he should pretend to philosophy:
I therefore pretend to it, said he, so much more to
* Hon Epist. icvii. lib. 1, ver. 23. f Idem, ib. ver. 25, 26, 29,
\ Cic Tusc. Quaest. lib. iv. cap. 3.
II It was not Heraclides, but Pythagoras that returned this an?
fwer to Leo ; and it was from a book of Heraclides, a disciple of
Platol that Cicero 'quotes this passage, as he says in his Tusc.
Quaest. lib. v. ciqp. 3. Plato was not born till above 100 years after
f ythagoras.
* 6f children. 195
tjhe purpose.* Hegesias desired that he wouid read
a certain book to mm. You are a pleasant compa-
nion, said he to him, you choose figs that are true and
natural, and not those that are painted ; why do not
you all choose exercises that are natural and genuine^
rather than those that are prescribed i
He will not so much get his lesson by heart as byTbe pn^
practice. We shall discover if there is prudence in-*J^„^
nis enterprises, if there be goodness and justice in««k«
his deportment, judgment and grace in his speaking,.^^^
fortitude in his sickness, modesty in his merriment,;*' Jy "•
temperance in his pleasures, order in his economy, ***"
and indifference in his palate, as to flesh, fish, wine,
or water. Qui disciptinam suam nan oUentatkmem
scientia^ sed legem vita puUtj quique obtemperet ipse
sibi^ et decretis pareatA " Who considers nis leam«'
^ ing not as a vain ostentation of science, but as a
*^ rule of life, and who obeys its decrees, and
** observes its regimen." Hie conduct of our lives
is the true mirror of our oonversation. When one
asked Zeupidamus,t why the Lacedaemonians com*
mitted their constitutions of chivalry to writing, and
did not give them to their youth to read i he made
answer. Because they chose to accustom ihem to
action, ratiier than to amuse them with word&
With such as Cliis, compare one of those college
Xatinists, who has thrown away fifteen or sixteen
years in <Hily learning to speak. The world is
nothing but babble, and I never yet saw the man
yho did not ratber tdlf more thaTfi^"Ee"oug^ andT'
yetlialf of our time is consumed this wayT 'We are
subjected four or five years to learn the meaning of
words, and to tack them together into clauses; as
many more to distribute one copious discourse into
four or five parts ; and the remaining five years, at
least, to learn succinctly to mix and interweave
* Diogenei Laertiiu^ in the life of Diogenes the Cynict libu v«
Mct.48.
f Cic Tiuc Quaest. lib. f i. tap. 4.
^ Plutarcbj in the notable ssyings of the ]
02
Iffi OF THE EDUCATION
tiiem dler a subtle inanner. Let us leave suc^
a tsifk to those wliQ make it their particidar pFo*
fession.
thf'iitory Going one day to Orleans, I met, in the plain oft
dl^jj^goe?^ this side of Clcry, with two pedagc^es travelling
^h« went towards Bourdeaux, the w>e above faty paces beforet
deanzT the Other; and at soini distance behind I saw a
troop of horse, with the commander at their head,
who was the late Monsieur the coimt de la Rouche*
foucaut : one of my companions inquired of the
foremost of the two pedants who that gentleman was
that followed him, who, not having perceived tlie
train in their rear, and thinking that be meant his com^
panion, answered pleasantly, ^' He is not a gentle
^^ man, sir, he is a grammarian, and I am a logician/^
A youth of Now ^e, who on the contriiry do not aim to form
mfiy ousht a grammarian nor logician, but a gentleman, leave
*''rrfiiiT*''^' them to mispend their time ; our business lies ano-
iustructed thcr way : for let our pupil be well furnished with
knowledge things, words will flow but too fast ; he will drag
of thin^ them after him^ if they are not ready to follow. I
^oilisf '^^'^^ known some make excuses for want of a cs^a^
city to express themselves, and pretend to have a
great many fine tlioughts, but, lor want of elocu*
tion, are not able to utter them ; but this is a flam*
Woiild you know what I think of it ? I take their
thoughts to be nothing but shadows of some irregu-
lar conceptions which they are not able to connect
and clear up in their own minds, por by consequence
to bring them out» They do not yet themselves un-
derstand what they would be at ; and if you obser\'e
how thejr hesitate upon the point of parturition, you
will soon perceive that their labour is not to a de-
livery, but merely in conception, and that they are
still licking the imperfect embryo. For my part, I
am of opinion, and Socrates lays it down as a rule,
that whoever has a sprightly and clear imagination,
will be able to express it well enough in some dialect
or oth^r, and if duipb, by signs :
Verhaiqim fraoiaamrem won inviia sequeniwr.^
When onoe a tiling con^v'dis in th€ mind,
Woixls to ea^MresB it a quick passage find.
And as another says as poetically in prose, 'Cum res
animum occupavercj verba ambiunt ;t ^ When the
** mind is once master of a thing, words are eager
•* to utter it :*' and this other, ipsce res verba ra-
piunt :t " Things themselves draw out words after
•* them/* He knows nothing of ablative, conjunc-
tive, subjunctive, nor of grammar, no more than
his lackey or a iishwoman at the Petit Pont ; and yet
their tongues will run till you ate tired of heanng
them, and, perhaps, will trip as little in their lan-
guage as the best master of arts in France. He knows
no rhetoric, nor how to word a preface, so as to
sooth a reader, nor is he solicitous to know it. In
truth, all this decoration of painting is easily ob-
scured by the lustre of simple and blunt truth. Such
fine flourishes serve only to amuse the vulgar, who
are not able to digest K)od thai is more substantial
and strengthening, as A&r plainly shows in Tacitus. ||
The ambassadors of Saraos came to Cleomenes, king
of Sparta, prepared with a long and elegant oration,
to incite him to a war against the tyrant Polycrates,
who, after he had heard them with patience, gave
them this short answer, § " As to the preamble, I
** remember it not, nor consequently the middle of
** your speech, and as to your conclusion I will do
" nothing that you desire/* A fine answer this, me-
thinks, and the speech-makers were, no doubt, quite
confounded. And how fared it with the other ? The
Athenians were to choose one out of two architects
lo be the director of a great fabric, the one of which^
* Hor. Art. Poet, ver. 811. f Sencc. Contr. 1. lii. in the Preface.
X Cic. 'de Fintbos, lib. iii. cffiD. 5.
II In a DiidogHe, intituled, De Cans© eomipta Eloquentiae, the
•uthor of which is not very well known. Several of the learned, OH
well as Montaigne, ascribe it to Tacitus, others to Qointilian, &c
^ Plutarch, in the notsdble sayings of the Lacedsen^oniapi.
196; OF THE EDUCATION
an affected fellow, offered his service in a fine pro»
meditated harangue upon the subject, and b^ his
oratory inclined the suffirage of the people in his &-
vour; but the other, only made use of these few
words, *• Ye lords of Athens, what this man hath
^* only said, I will perform/** When Cicero was
in the highest reputation for his eloquence, he was
admired by many; but Cato,t making a jest of it,
only said, " We have a pleasant consul." Whether
it goes before or afler, a good sentence, or a fine
passage, is always in season ; if it neither coheres
with what went before, nor follows after, it is
however good in itself. I am none of those who
think that good rhyine makes a good poem. Let
the bard niake a short syllable long if he will, it is
a mktter of no moment ; if there be invention in his
piece, and if wit and judgment have acted their
parts well in it, I will style him a good poet, though
a bad rhymer:
EmuncUB natUy durus camponere versus.X
His wit is delicate, though harsh his veise.
Let a man, says Horace, strip such a poem as he
there speaks of, viz. that of Ennius, of all its con«
nections and measures,
Tempora ceriOj modosque, et quad prius.ordine verbum est,
' Pasteriusfaciat, frcBponens uUima primis^
hwenias etiam disjecii membra poetcB.% .>
* Plutarch^ in .bis instruetioDsYor those who manage state atiurs.
f Montaigne gives top general a latitude to Cato's reflectioDs,
though perhaps he did so for the purpose. Cato did not ridicule
Cicero's eloquence in the general, out only his abuse of it .while he
was consul. When he was pleacQng one day for Murena against
CatOy he fell to ridiculing the gravest principles of the stoic philo»
fiophy in too coinic a manner, and consequently not becoming the
august station he then was in. This is what, drew Cato's answer
above-mentioned, which was more stingmg than all the inyeptives
which Cicero had so lately cast at this great man» who was much
more a stoic by his manners, than by his discpurses* See Plutarch,
in the Xife of Cato, ch. 6 of Ainyot^s translation.
X Hpr. Sat^iv. IH). L ver. 8. ^ Hor.lib. i. sat* iv. ver. 5S*
CM? CHIL0BSlf • 199
,^ ^t tense^ and mood, and words be ^11 misplac'di
Thos.e last that, should be first, those first the last ;
'Though all things be thus shuffled out of frame, •
You'll find the po^'s fragments hot tb blame.
tie will nevertheless acknowledge thai the very
scraps theniselves are excellent This was the inu
port of Menander's answer, who, when the day was
at hand on which he had promised a comedy, being
reoroved that he made nb great progress in it, said,
** It was composed and ready, all except the verses." *
Having contrivedthe acts and the scenes in his fancy,
he made little account of the rest.
Since Ronsard and Bellay have brought our French lofmtion
poetry into reputation, every little dabbler in it, for ci,!!li parT
aught I see, swells his words as high, and makes his '^^'^ p>^«
cadences very near as harmonious, as they did. Plus "^ ^^^^^^*
sonatj quam valet:\ ^^ More sound than sense.''
As to low life, there were never so many poetasters
as now ; but though they find it no hard task to
rhyme as musically as they, yet they fall infinitely
short in imitating the noble descriptions of the one,
and the .curious inventions of the other.
But what shall our young gentleman do if he be a youth of
attacked with the sophistical subtlety of sotpe syllo- fentage*'
gism. A gammon of bacon makes a man drink, ougbt'td
drink quenches thirst ; ergo the bacon quenches pwst'i^i*^
thirst. Why, let him laugh at it, and it will be more ««»>tie''»".
discretion to do so^ than to answer it, Subtilius est
contempsisse quam solvere.X Or let him borrow this
pleasant counter-policy of Aristippus, § " Why
^^ should I unbind him, who, bound as he is, gives
" me so much perplexity ?** A person endeavouring
to pose Cleanthes with some logical subtleties,
Chrysippus took him up short, sayings || Reserve
your juggling tricks to play with chil(&en, and do
^ Plutarch, in his tracts whether the Athenians wore more emi-
nent in arms than in letters/ cap. 4.
f Senec. Epist. 40. ibidem, Epist. 49/
§ Diogenes Laertius, in the life of Aristippus, lih. ii. sect. 70.
y Diogenes Lacrtius, in the Lifb of Cbrysippus, l^b. viL sect. 188.
not let t^em draw aside the serious l^ottghts of a
man in years. If these ridiculous subtleties, con--
tortaj et hculeata sophismata :* diose perplexed and
crabbed sophisms, as Cicero calls them, are designed
to make him believe a lie, they are dangerous ; but
if they answer no other purpose than only to make
him laugh, I do not see why he need to be fortified
against them. Some are so silly as to go a mile out
of their way to hook in a fine term or phrase. Aut
qui non verba rebtis aptanty sed res extrinsecus arces^
$unty quibus verba cotroeniant :f ** Either they do
••* not adapt their terms to their subject, or ramble
** from their subject in quest of things to which the
«* words inay agree.'* And, as another says, Qm
alkujus verbi decore placentis v^centur ad idj quod
non propo^uerant scribere :t " Who, charmed by some
" word that pleases them, eiigage in a subject whidi
** they had no design to treat of." For my part, I
choose to twist in a fine sentence, to tack it to my
subject, rather than to untwist the thread of my
subject, by deviating 'Gtom ft in quest of such sen-
tence. On the contrary, words are to serve and fol-
low a man's purpose, and let the Gascon language
take place where the French will not do. I womd
have the imagination of the hearer entirely engrossed
by the subject, although the words are forgot. The
style I am fond of is natural and plain, both in
speaking and writing; a style that is nervous and
concise, not so delicate and fiorid, as masterly and
'forcible. Hac demum sdpiet dictio^ qutz feriet :%
" The eicpression which touches the mind will in-
'•* fallibly please it : " rather intricate than long-
winded periods, free fi-om affectation ; not stiff nor
disjointed ; not pedantic, nor monk, nor lawyer-like,
'but rather *soldier-like, as Suetonius calls that of
' • €ic; AcaH. Queest. lib. iv. cap. 24?. f QwintS. lib. viil
X Scnec. Epist 59.
^ The Latin verse is taken from a sort of epitaph in Lucan, which
is to be found entire in' the Supplement to rabricius't BibUotheca
liatinai p» 167«
OF CHXLBXfiK. 201
Ji^tts Cesar; yet why he called it so, I cannot weS
<:onceive.
I have been ready enough to imitate that loose Mon.^
&^ion, which is oDservable iii the dress of our ^^'i^ce
young fellows; to wear my dook flung upon one from au«c
shoulder^ my cap on onfe side, one stocking looser ^•^^^^^^
thaii the otiaier, which represents a haughty disdain
of the forei^ ornaments, and a n^igence of art,
which I find of much greater use in the forms of
speech. AU affectation, particularly in the French
gaiety and freedom, is untN^oming a courder, whose
dress ought to be the model for every gentleman in
a monarchy, lor which reason an easy and natural
negligence does well. I no more like a piece of stuff
wove, in which the knots and seams are to be seen^
tJian a skin so ddicate, that a man may count the
bones and veins. Qua veritati operam dat <nrutio^
incotnposita fit^ et simplex^^^^ttis accurate loauitur^
fim qui vult putidh loquvA ^^ Let the speech, tnat has
** truth for its aim, be plain and artless." What
man strives to speak accurately without exposing
this affectation ? that sort of eloquence which makes
lis in love with Ourselves, does an injury to the sub-
ject it treats of. As in our appard it is unmanly
to distinguish ourselves by any singular garb that is
not in the fashion ; so in language, to hunt for new
phrases, and unknown terms, proceeds from a
scludastic and puerile ambition. May I be permitted
-to use no other terms but those that will do as well
4br the markets at Paris ! Aristophanes, the gram-
marian, undeiistood nothing of the matter, when he
reproved Epicurus for the simplicity of his expres-
sion, and the design of his oratory, which was only
perspicuity of language.^ The imitation of speak-
mg by its own facility, immediately runs through a
.whole nation ; but tne imitation of judging and
inventing words is not so quick in its progress. The
• Seneca, Ep. 40. t Wem, Epist 75- *
% Diogenes Laeitius» in the life of Epicurus, lib. x. sect 13«
90S OF THE EDUCATIOir
generality of readers, became they have foubd a likft
robe, imagine, very falsely, that tKey have a Iik«
body ; whereas strength and sinews are not to be
borrowed, though the gloss and outward omametft
may. Most of those who resort to • me, speak the
language of my essays ; but whether they have the
same sentiments, I know not. The Athenians, says
Plato,* are eminent for speaking copiouslv and ele*
gantly, the Lacedaemonians concisely, while those of
Crete aim more at the fertility of the imagination^
than the copiousness of language, and these are the
best. Zeno said, that he had two sorts of disciples,
the one whom he termed ^ixoxoysc, curious to learn
things, and these were his favourites; the others
Aoyof/xiTf, who cared for nothing but languaffe^
[^Stobaus Serm. S4.] This does not mean that
speaking well is not a fine and a happy talent, but
only that it is not so happy as some consider it, and
J am scandalised that this should engross our whole
* time. I would fain understand my own language
first ; and next, that of my neighbours, with whom
I most correspond.
Ttw^"^ Greek and Latin are no doubt very fine accom*
ranguagi^ plishmcnts, but we purchase them at too dear a rate.
i^JnS 1 will here discover one method whereby, as I my*
i^tVie»s self have experienced, they may be had much chei^
ar^i wHSiy ^^» *"^ ^^^ ^^^ "^^X make use of it My deceased
takea. father, having made all the inquiry that a man could
possibly do among men of learning and underatand-
mg of an exact method of education, was by them
apprised of this inconvenience which attended Uie
modem practice ; and he was told, that the tedious
time we spent in learning the languages, which cost
the ancient Greeks t and Romans very little, if any,
* De LegibuSy lib. i. p. 572.
4* The antient Greeksy more fortunate or wuer than the Romans,
only learned tlieir own language; whereas the Romans conunonfy^
joined the study of Greek to that of the Latin tongue^^and derived
almost all their notions from the Greek books, both their poetry and
.theirf)hilosophy being, scarce any thmg more than trandatiow from
the Greek. ^
OF CHILDRBir. 303
was the only reason why we could not attain to their
magnanimity or knowledge. I do not, however, be-
lieve that to be the only cause ; but the expedient
my father found out for this was, that while I was at
nurse, and before I began to speak, he committed
me, to the care of a German, who since died a
&mous physician in France, tatsily ignorant of our
language indeed, but very well versed in the Latin.
. This gentleman, whom he had sent for out of his uti«
own country on purpose, and to whom he paid an S^i*^
extraordinary salary, had me continually in his arms, before the
and to him Were joined two others of inferior learn- to^^nud
ing to attend me by way of relief to him; and all with wW
these talked to me in no other language but Latin. *"*^^**^
As to the rest of his &mily, it was an inviolable rule,
that neither himsell^ nor my mother, nor the footman,
nor the chambermaid, should speak any tiling in my
company but such Latin words as each had learnt
only to gabble with me. It is not to be imagined
how great an advantage this proved to the whole
&mily. My father and mother, by this means,
learned Latin enough to understand it, and to speak
it well enough to serve their occasions, as did^lso
those of the domestics who were most attendatit
upon me. To be short, we latinised it to such a de-
cree, that it overflowed to all our neighbouring viU
lages, where there still remain, having established
themselves by custom, several Latin names of arti-
ficers and their tools. As for myself, I was above
six years of age before I understood either French,
or rerigordin, any more than Arabic ; and without
art, book, grammar,- or precept, without the lash,
and without shedding a tear, I had learned to speak as
pure Latin as my schoolmaster, for I could not have
confounded nor corrupted it. If, by way of trial,
they were disposed to give me a theme af):er the
college fashion, they gave it to the others in French,
but to me they gave it in bad Latin that I might
turn it into good. And Nicholas Grouchi, who
wrote De Comitiis Romanorum } William Guirentes,
304 dF THE EbtJCATION
wh& wrote a Comment upon Aiistode ; Greorffi
Buchtinan, the great poet ot' Scotlanci;, and Marcus
Antonius Muretus (whom both IVance and Italy
have acknowledged to be the best orator of lus time),
my domestic preceptors, have often trfd me, that, in
my very childhood, I had this kngnage so ready and
fluent, that they were afraid to accost me in it
Buchanan, when I saw him afterwards in the retinue
of the late Mareschal de Brissac, told me, that he
\ was about to write a treatise on tlie education of
; children, and that he would take the model of it
fiom mine : for he was then tutor to that count de
Brissac, whom we have since seen so valiant and
• brave a gentleman,
Montaij^ne As to Greek, of which I know very little, if any
G^^k^k thing* at all, my father intended to make me learn it
his pa*, by art, but in a new way, by the means of recreation
and exercise, tossing our declensions to and^ fro,
after the manner of those who learn arithmetic and
Sreometiy, by certain games on the chess-board.
?or, amongst other things, he had been advised to
make me relish my learning and my duty by an un-
forced will, and at my own desire, and to train me
up with all gentleness and freedom, without any
severity or constraint, which, I may say, he observed
so very superstitiously, that, as some are of opinion,
it disorders the tender brains of children to awake
them by smrprise in the morning, and suddenly and
violently to snatch them from sleep (in which they
are more profoundly involved than we are) he caused
me to be waked out of it by the sound of some in-
strument of music, and I was never without a musi-
cian for that purpose. This instance will be suf-
ficient to form an idea of the rest, as well as to re-
commend both the prudence and the aifection of sd
good a father, who is not at all to be blaihed, if he
has not reaped the fruit answerable to so exquisite a
culture, of which these two things were the cause.
First, a barren and improper soil. For though I wa*
of a strong and healthful, and of a milil and Iract^
OF CHILBIiEN. 205'
able temper, I wa» withal so heavy, indolent, and
sleepy, that they could not rouse me from this stu-
pidity, not even to play. What I saw, I saw dearly
enough ; and, in this lazy dtsppsitien, noiuished bold
imaginations and opinions above one of my age. I
had a slow genius, which made no progress &stet
than it was led, a dull apprehension, a languid im
vention, and, after all, an incredible defect of
memory ; so that no wonder, if taking all this to-,
gether, my fether could extract nothing of value.
Secondly, as they, who, impatient for the cure of a
distemper, submit to all manner of advice ; so the
good man, being extremely fearful of failing in a
thing which he had so much at heart, suffered him-
self at last to be over-ruled. by the common opinion,
as one fool always makes many, and, in compliance
with the &shion of the time, having dismissed those
Italians from about him who had given him the &8t
plans of my educaticm, he sent me, when I was
about six years of age, to the college of Guienne,
which was very fburishing at that time, and the be$t
in France, where he took all possible care to choose
able tutors £»: me, and provide every thing else
proper for iny education, m which he made a reser-
vation of many particular forms contrary to the
practice of the colleges ; but, with all these precau.-
tions, it was still a college. My Latin immediately
grew corrupt, of which, by discontinuance, I have
since left all manner of use; so that this new-
fashioned education was of no other service to me,
than, at my arrival there, to prefer me over the
beads of others to the first classes ; for at thirty-
three years old, when 1 came from the college, I bad
run through my y|;h6le course (as they call it), and,
in truth, without any manner of improvement that I
can at this time recollect.
The pleasure I found in the fables in Ovid's Me- How yton^
tamorphosis first gave me a liking to books : for when J^^Jf^^ ^
I was about ijeven or eight years old, 1 stole from a fancy to
every otl^er pleasure to read them, forasmuch as the anlhorf/'
fOe OP THE EDUCAXrOK'
language of this book was my mother-tongue, aiid
that it was the easiest book 1 knew, and uie most
adapted to the capacity of my tender years. As to
Lancelot of the Lake, AmadJs de Gaul, Huon de
Bourdeaux, and such trumpery, the &vourite
amusements of children, I had not so much as heard
the names of them no more than I yet^ know the
contents of them, so strict was the discipline I was
brought up in. I was hereby, however, rendered
the more mdifferent to the study of the other les-
sons that were prescribed to me : and here it was my
singular advantage^ to have a gentleman of good un-
derstanding for my preceptor, who dexterously con-
nived at this and other such deviations from my task.
For by this means I ran through Virgil's JEndd, Te-
rence, Plautus, and some Italian comedies, being
continually allured by the pleasure of the subject ;
whereas, had he been so unwise as to have inter-
rupted me in this coiu^e of my reading, I very be-
lieve, I shonld have brought nothing away from the
college, but a hatred of books, as almost all our
gentry do. But his conduct in this matter was quite
discreet, seeming to take no notice of it; and by
permitting me to indulge myself in these books only
by stealth from any other regular studies, it made
my appetite for them more eager. The chief things
my £itlier desired from the endeavours of those to
whom he gave the charge of me, were courtesy and
compliance ; and, to say the truth, my temper had
no other vice but pusillanimity and sloth. There
/ was no danger o£ my doing ill, but of my doing
/ nothing. Nobody prognosticated that I should be
1 wicked, but useless ; they foresaw idleness in my
I nature, but not malice, and I fin^ I have turned out
' accordingly. The complaints my ears are tingled
with are such as these ; he is idle, cold in the ofiiccs
of a friend, and of a relation, and in the public of-
fices too particular, and too scornful: the worst,
however, of his enemies do not say. Why has he
not taken such a thing ? Why has he not paid such a
OF CHILDREN. 207
debt? but. Why does he not part with this ? Why
does he not give that ? And 1 should take it as a
fevour, that men would expect no works of superero-
gation but such as these : but they are unjust to
exact from me what I do not owe, and with more
severity than is necessary, they impose upon them*
selves to pay their own debts. In condemning me
ibr this, they cancel the gratification of the act, and
the gratitude which wpuld be due to me for it:
"whereas the doing a good action ought to be deemed
of so much the greater value from my hands, by
reason I never was under obligation to any body for
a &;vour. As my fortune is my own, 2 am the more
at liberty to dispose of it, as I am of my person the
more it is my own* Nevertheless, if I was good at
blazoning my own actions, I could, perhaps, very
fiurly repel these reproaches, and could give some to
understand, that they are not so much offended that
I do not do enough, as that I am able to do a great
deal more than I do. Yet, for all this, my mind, at
the same time, had secret and strong agitations,
and formed solid and clear judgments about those
objects it comprehended, and it alone digested them
without any help : arid, amongst other things, I do
really believe it would have been altogether incapa-
ble of isubmitling to force and violence. Shall I
Elace to this account one faculty of my youth, viz. a
old countenance, attended with a smooth tongue,
and a supple behaviour, applicable to the parts which
I was to undertake ? For,
jiUer al undecimo turn me vix reperat annus.*
I was but just entered into my twelfth year, when
i played the chief parts in the Latin tragedies of
Buchanan, Querent, and Muretus, which are acted
with great applause in our college at Guienne. In
this ii^idreas Goveanus, our principal, as in alt other
branches of his office, was, incomparably the greatest
principal in France ; and I was looked upon as 9
* Virg. Eel. yiii. rer. 39,
JOa OF THE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.
masterly actor. This is an exercise which I do no^
discommend in young people of condition ; and I.
have seen some of our princes, after the example of
the ancients, perform such exercises, in person, with
dignity and applause* It was even allowable to per-
sons of quality in Greece to make a profession of it*
Aristoni tragico actori rem ap^ret : huic et genwj et
fortuna henesia erant : nee ars^ quia nihil taU apud
Gracos pudori est ea deformabat ;* *' He discovered
*^ the afiair to Ariston, a young tragedian, a man of
** a good family and fortune, neither of which quali^
^ ties were disgraced by his art, nothing of this kind
*' being reckoned a disparagement in Greece/* For
I have always taxed tho^e with impertinence who
condemn these recreations, and those persons with
injustice, who refuse to admit such comedians, as
wf^re worthy of it, into our capital towns,, and wha
grudge the people these public diversions. Well go*
vem^ corporations take car^ to assemble the citi*
zens, not only for the solemn duties of devotion, but
also for sports and pastimes. Society and * fiiendship
are augmented by it ; and, besides, they cannot pos^
sibly be allowed more regular diversions than what
^ are performed in th^ presence of all persons, and in
the sight of the magistrate himse|f; For my part
too, I should think it but right, that the prmce
should sometimes, at his own expense, gratify the
common people, in token of his paternal affection
and goodness ; and that, in populous towns, there
should be theatres erected and set apart ^r such en«
tQrtainments, were it only to divert them from
worse and more secret actions. But, to return to
my subject, there is nothing like alluring the appe-
tite and afl^ction of the young learners, otherwise
they turn out only as so many asses laden with
books, and have their pockets crammed with leam**
ing to keep by virtue of the lash ; whereas, to act
rightly, would be not only to lodge it with them?
but to make them espouse it.
♦ TiU Liv, lib. xxiv. cjip.24*
OF >l£ASURINO TRUTH AJSP ERBOIU S09
CHAPTEji XXVii
Tke FoUif of makmg our Capacity 4 Standard for
the Measure of Truth and Erron
±t \% lioiy perhaps, without reiEMon, that we as-
cribe facility of belief, and easiness of persuasion,
to simplicity and igndrance; for, I think, I haVd
heretofore heard belief compared td an intpression
stamped upon our mind, which, bV hoW itiuch the
softer and the more flexible it is, tne more easily it
receives any impression. Ut necd^se est lancem in
libra ponderibus impositisj de primis sic animum per^
spicuts cedere : * ** As one of the scales of a balance
" Bdust be depressed by putting weight into it, so
*^ the assent of the mind must of necessity yield trt
•* things that are evident/* And the more the mind
is free, and turns upon an uneven balance, the Easier
it is weighed down by the first persuasion. Thid ii
the reason why children, the common people, wo-
men, and sick folks, are most liable to be led by the
ears. But then, on the othei* hand, it is a silly pre-
sumption to slight and condemn every thing as false,
because it does not seem to us likely to be true,
which is the common failing of such as fancy them*
selves wiser than their neighbours. I. was myself
formerly of that opinion ; and if I heard talk either
of spirits walking, of prognostications of futurity,
of enchantments, witchcraft, or any other tale which
I knew not what to make of,
Somnia, terrotei magicos^ miracula^ sagas^
Noctumos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides ff-
Can you in earnest laugh at all the schemes
Of magic terrors, visionary dreams,
Portentous prodigies^ and imps of hell j
The nightly goblins, and encnanting spell ?
* Cm^ Acad. Qusst. lib. iv. (qui inscribitur Lucullus) cap« 12.
t Hon lib«iLEpist. 2, ven 206,209'
VOL. I. P
I pitied the poor people that were imposed upon by
these fooleries ; and now I find that i myself was to
be pitied as much af least as tlieiy. ^ Not that expe-
rience has taught me any thing to supersede my K>r-
mer opinions, though I have not wanted euriosily^
but reason hiis instructed me, tihftt thus resolutely to
condemn a thin^ as &lse and impossible, is to pre-
sume to. set limits to God's will, and the power of
pature, our common mother ; and that it is the most
egregious folly in the World to measure either the one
pr the other oy the standa];d of oiu: shallow capaci-
ties. If we give die epithets of monstrous and im-
racukus to what pur reason cannot coitiprehend,
how many things of that nature are continually be-
fore our eyes? Let us but consider through what
douds, and how we are led gfoping, as it were, in
the dark, to the knowledge of the things we are
possessed of, and we shall surely find, that it is ra-
ther custom than knowledge that makes them ap*
pear not strange to us :
■Jew nemofessus saturusque videndi^
Suspkere in casli dignaiur lucida templa.\
Already glutted with the sight, now none,
- Heav'n's lucid temples deigns to look upon.
and that if those things were now presented us new
to us, we should think them equally, or more incre-
dible than any other :
—Si nunc primum mortalibus adsint
" EximprovisOf seu sint objecla repent?.
Nil magis his rebus poterat mircuMe did,
Autndmis ante (jnoaaudereni fore credere gentes.X
Were those things suddenly, or bv surprise,
Just now objected, new; to knortal eyes ;
At nothing could tfiey be asfonish'd more,
Nor could have form d a thought of them before.
The man who had never seen a river in his whole
^ It icf ki Lucretius, Jhssus satiate videndi^ satiate bemg the ab-
lative dase of the noun substaiitive satias,
t Lucret, Kb. ii. ver. 1087, 1096. J lb. ver. 1032 to 1035,
TRUTH AND ERROR. 211
life, thought the first he met with to be the ocean j
£Uid the uiings which are the greatest witbiu our
knowledge, we think to.be the greatest that nature
has formed of the kind:
Scilicet etfltwiusqtd'nonmaximjiSj ei est
Qui rum ante dliquem majorem vidk et ingemx
Arbw komoe/ue videtur^ et omnia de genere omnt
Maxime. qiue vidit qulsque^ tui^c ingentiajtngil,*
A little river unto him docs seem,
That bigger never saw, a mighty stream ;
A tree, a man ; all things seem to his view
O' th' kind the greatest, that ne'er greater knew.
Cansuetudine oculorunij assuescunt animi^ neque ad»
mirantur^ nefue requirunt rationes earum rerum^
quas temper vident:f " Things grow familiar to
** men's minds by being often seen ; so that they
^^ neither admire, nor are inquisitive into, the causes
** of themi" It is the novelty, rather than the
grandeur, of things, that tempts us to inquire into
their causes. But we are to judge with more reve-
rence for that infinite power of nature, and with a
greater acknowledgment of our own. ignorance and
infirmity. How many unlikely things are there tes-
tified by persons of credit, which, if we cannot ab-
solutely believe, we ought at least to live in suspense ?
For to conclude them impossible^ is. rashly pre-
sumingtp pretend to know the utmost bounds of
possibility. Did we rig^htly understand the difference
between things^ impossible and unusual, and what is
contrary to the order and course of nature, and con-
traiT to the common opinion of mankind,, in not be-
lievm^ rashly, nor, on the other hand, . being too in-
credulous, we should observe the rule of Ne quid ni*
misy enjoined by Chilo.t
• * Lucr; lib. vi. ver. 67* to 677. t Gic. de Nat. Deor. lib. ti. ctaf 38.
^ Mnhf «vii% Aristotle in his Rhetoric, lib. xL cap. 12, and Fliny
(Nat. HkHk lib. vii. cap. 32J ascribe this maxim to Chilo, as does
DiOffenes Laertius in the Life of Thales, lib. i. sect. 41, but he aflen-
wards ascribes it to Solon, in his Life of Solon, lib. i. seou 6S. It
has been also attributed to others. See Menage's Observa^ons on
Diogenes Laertius in the Life of Thates, Ub.L siect. il.
P2 * .
212 Of MEASURING
When we read, in Froissart,* that the count de Foiit
knew, in Bearn, the defeat of king John, of Castile^
at Jubaroth, in 1385, the day after it happened, and
the mean9 J)y which he tells us be came to hear it so
toon, it is enough to make one laugh > as well as at
what we are told in our annals, that pope Honorius,
on the very day that Philip Augustus died at Mante,
performed his ilineral obsequies at Rome, and com*
manded the like throughout Italy : for the testimony
of ihese authors is not, perhaps, considerable enough
to be relied on# But why i if Flutarcfay besides se-
veral instances of the like kind that he produces fit>m
antiquity, says, he is assured by certain knowledge
that, in the time of Domitian, the news of the batSe
lost by Antonius, many days journey from thence,t
wafi^ published at Rome,4: and dispersed throughout
the world, on the same day it was fought ; and if
Caesar was of opinion, that it has often happened that
the rumour has been antecedent to the event ; shall
we not say, that those simple men suffered themselves
to be deceived with the vulgar, for not being so clear-
sighted as we i Is there any thing more delicate^
more exacts and more sprightl3r than Pliny's judg-
ment, when he i» pleased to g^ve it exercise? Is
there any thing more exempt from vanity ? Setting
aside his exceUent learnings of which l mdke the
least account, in which of these two do we surpass
him i And yet there is scarce a pretender to leam^
ing but will pronounce him a liar, and pretend to
instruct him in the progress of the works of nature^
When we read, in Bouchet, the miracles performed
by St Hilary's relics, away with such stufi'l his au-
thority is not sufficient to restrain us from the liberty
of contradicting him ; but to condemn all such stories
in the lump is^ I think, a singular piece of impu*
♦ frpissfllrty vol. iii. cap* 17, p. 63, &c. The story is very tedious,
and perfectly ridiculous* •
f Above 840 leagues, says Plutarch,r in the Life of Pauluff
iEmilius#
% There is no body in my tune, adds Plutarch, but knows this*
TRUTH A2m ERROR. SJS
4&ence. The great St Austin sa^, he saw a blind
child recover its sight by the rehcs of St Gervase,
and St Protasius at Milan ;* and a woman at Car*
thage cured of a cancer, by the sign of the cross
made upon her bj a woman newly baptised ; that
Hesperius,t a famuiar friend of his, drove away spi*
rits, that haunted his house, with a little of the earth
of our Lord's sepulchre ; and that the same earth,
being afterwards carried to the church, a man af-
flicted with die palsj was there suddenly cured by
it ; that a woman, m a procession, having touched
the shrine of St Stephen with a nosegay, and there-
with rubbed her eyes, recovered her sight, which
she had been a long tame deprived of; not to men-
tion several other, miracles, at which, he says, he
w<^ himself present Of what shall we accuse him
and the two holy bishops, Aurelius and Maximin,
whom he appeals to for his vouchers ? Shall it be of
jgnor^npjs^ simplicity, . credulity', or of knavenr and
.in)po«tm^ ? Is there a man in tnis age so impudent as
to think himsdf (comparable to them either in virtue
And piety, or in l^nowledge, judgment, and capa-
city ? Qui ut rationem nuUam afferent^ ipsa authori-
fate me frangerctit ;\ ^* Who, though they should
^ offer m^ no r^asoo^ would convince me bv their
^ sin^e liuthprity/^ It is a pr^umption of^ great
danger and conseauence, besioes the absurd temerity
it is attended wi^i, of contemning idiat we do not
* Auguseia. de Civitate Dei^ 1^^ 9vu* <»iv &
t Montaigne Is guUiy here of a snu^} mistake. St Austin does
not ascribe this expmsion of the evil spirits to tWffosU Quantity of
the earth of our Lord's sepulchre whicn Hesperius had in nis house ;
for, ac^ordii^to SjU Austjp» one of his priests, Kaviiig, at the. en-
treaty of llmejriu^ ^repaj^ to his house, and offered the sacrifice
of the l^pdy of Christ, and baying prayed earnestly to God to put a
stop to tiiis distuHNmce, God did so that very instant. As to the
eardi taken firom Ihe sepmlchre of Jesus Christ, Hesperius kept it
suspended in h«| OFur b^dcha^nber, to seeure him firom the insults of
ehe devils, who had been very mischievous to his slaves and cattle ;
for thqugh he was pro^cted against ihe evil spirito by this earthy y^
its ipfiiepce did po^ extend to the rest of his^fimiily.
\ Cic Tqsc^ Qus^t lib. L ciy» filf
214 OF MEASURTKO TRUTS AKD ERBOR.
djttiprehend ; for after that, according to your fine
understanding, you have settled the limits of truth
and falsehood, and it should happen that you are un-
der a necessity of believing stranger things than those
you deny, you are actually obliged to recede from
the limits you have established. Now what I think
so much disquiets our consciences in our commotions
on the score of religion, is the catholics' dispensation
of their creed : they fancy they act with moderation
and understanding, when they give up to their ad*
versaries any of me articles that are controverted ;
but, besides that they do not discern of what advan*
tagc it is to their adversaries to begin to yield to
them, ^nd to retire, and how much this animates the
adversaries to follow the blow ; those articles which
they chose as the most indifferent, are sometimes
very important. We are either totally to submit to
the authority of our ecclesiastical polity, or be en-
tirely exempted firom it. It is not for us to deter*
mine what share of obedience we are to pay to it ;
and, moreover, this I can say, as having myself for-
merly made trirf of it, that, having used the^liberty
of choosing particularly for myself, being indifferent
, as to certain points of .the discipline erf our church,
which to me seemed to have an aspect more vain, or
more strange, coming after to discourse the matter
with some men of learning, I found that those very
things had a substantial and very solid bads ; and
that it is nothing but brutality and ignorance which
makes us receive them with less reverence than the
fest. Why do not we recollect what contradiction
we find in our own opinions ? How many things were
articles of fjiith yesterday, which to-day we treat as
no other than fables ? Vain-glory and curiosity are
the torments of our mind. This last prompts us to
dive into afiairs with which we have no concern,
while the former forbids us to leave any thing unde-
teripined an^ uqdecided^
.^I^JiBptOMPtP;. tlS
CHAPTER XXVII.
H.
Of Friendship.
i AVING observed in what maimer a painter, who
serves me, disposed of his workmandiip, 1 had a fancy
to imitate him. He chooses the fitirest part and tte
middle of a wall or partition, wherein he places a
picture, which he has finished, with the utmost care
and art$ and he fills up the void spaces that are about
it, with grotesque figures, which are fimdiid strokes of
the pencil, wiuiout any beauty but what they derive
from their variety imd oddness. And in truth, what
are these essays of mine but grotesques, and mofi^
strous pieces of patch-work put together without
any certain figure, or any order, connection, or ptfh
portion, but what is accidental i As the mermaid,
Desinai in piscem muGerformosa supeme.*^ ^
Which a fair woman's face above doth show,
But in a fijih's tail doth end below.
In the latter part I go, hand in hand with my pain-
ter, but fall very short of him in the former and the
better part, for I have n€»t so mudb skill aa to pretood
to give a fine picture executed accordmg to art.
I have, therefore, thought fit to borrow one from
Stephen de Boetius,t wMch will be an honour to all
the reat of this work. It is a discourse, which he
has entitled La Servitude Yolontaire, ^* Voluntary
^ Slaverv \'* but some, who did not know what ;he
intended by that title, have since . vei^ properly
given it another, viz« Centre un^V .It is a piece,
. * Hon de Arte Poetioa, ver, 4.
j* Yet it is not here, and why Montaigne has not inserted it, he
teUi us at the end of this chapter. *
X This, if I am not mistaken, means a discourse against mo«
narchy or government by one j^rson alone, agreeabfy to what
l^ontaigne s^ys, at the end of this chi4)ter, That if Boetius could
Iwve made his option, he would rather have been bom at Venice,
than at Sadat*
216 OF fribndshup.
vhicn he wrote in his younger years, by way of
essay, for the honour of liberty against tyrants* It
has passed through the hap^ of ;nen of the best un«
derstanding, with very ^eat recommendittions, as it
highly deserved, for it is elegantly written, and as
fiiB as any thing can be on the subject. Yet it may
truly be said, that he was capable of a better per*
formance ; and if in that riper age, wherein I had the
happiness to be acquainted with him, he had entered
upon an undertaking like this of mine, to commit
his fancies to writing, we should have seen many un-
common things, and such as wpuld have gone very
near to have rivalled the best writings of the an-
cients: for in this branch of natural endowments
specially, I know no man comparable to him, B.ut
we have nothing of his left, save only this tract (and
that even by chance, for I believe he never saw it
after he let it go out of his hands) ; and some me-
moirs concerning that edict of January,* made
&mous by our qvil wars, which perhaps triay find a
place els^wherei This is all that I have been able to.
recover of what he has left behind him (though with
such an afiectionate remembrance on his death bed,t
he did, by his will, bequeath his library and psmers
to me), except the little volume of his works, wnicH
I committed to the press ; t and to which 1 am par-
ticularly obliged, because it was the introduction of
our first acquaintance ; for it had been shown to me,
long before I knew his person, and as it gave mt the
first knowledge of his name, it consequently laid the
foundation ofthat friendship, which we mutu^y cul-
tivated so long as it pleased Ood to spare his life y
a friendship so entire, and so perfect, that certainly
the like is nardly to be found in story, nor is there
the least trace of it to be seen in the practice of the
* It was iBfued in 1562, in the reign of Charley IX. yet a acinar.
^ See the diacoune upon the oeath pf Stephen ae la Boettos^
comj^ted by Montaigne, and published at the end of this edition.
t Printed at Paris by Frederick Morel in 1571. I shall speak of
it mott particularly in another plape.
moderns. Indeed there must be sudi a crnicurrenc^
of circttmstances to the perfecting of 9tich a friends
ship, tliat it is very much^if fortune brings it to pass
once in three years.
> iThere is nothing to which nature seems to have Friemi*
ikiore ittclined us than society; and Aristotle says,^^||||[^py
that the good leg^ators were more tender of fiiend-c©"**^
jship than of justice. Now this is the utmost point ^^ill^..
df the perfection of society : for generally all those
fiiendships that are created and cultivated by plea-
sure^ profit, public or private necessity, are so
much the less amiable and generous, and so much
the less friendships, as they have another motive and
design, and consequence, than pure friendship itself.
Neitlfer are those four ancient kinds, viz. natural, Fneod-
social, hospitable, and venerean, either separately J^J^
or jointly correspondent with, or do they constitute P'operiy
true firiendship* That of children to parents is tb^Yout^tu
ther respect j friendship beiqg nourished by a com- »/ ^^i^
munication which cannot b^ ibrm^d between them,tioguitbed
by reason of the too great disparity pf »ge, and^3^*Jj^*»-
would perhaps violate the obligations pf nature ; for^ ^
neither are all the secret tboqghts pf the parents
communicable to tlieir children, for fear of creating
an unsuitable &miliarity between them ; por could
admonitions |md corrections, one of the principal
pffices of fnen4ship, be exercised by children to their
^parents. There are some countries, where it is the
pustom for children to kill their fathers ; and others,
where the fathers kill their children, to avoid their
^eing an impediment to their desi^s ; and naturally
the hopes or th^ one are foun4ed in the destruction
of the other. There have been philosophers who
have despised this tie of nature ;* witness Aristippus,
who, when he was seriously told of the affection he
owed to his children, as they were descended from
his loins, fell a-spitting, and said* that also came
from him, and that we likewise iM'ed lice and worms:
* piog. \aen, in the Life of Ari0tippu3» lib. ii« sieclk SI.
318 Of m»Kl>8liIIS
iKTitness another, whom Plutarch 'endeavotired to
reconcile with his brother ; I make never the more
account of him, said he, for coming out of the same
hole.* This word Brother, is ind€>ed a fine sound-
ing, and a most affectionate name ; and for this rea-
son, Boetius and I styled ourselves brothers :t but
the jumble of interest, the division of estates, and
the necessity that the wealth of the one must be the
impoverishment of the other, wonderfully dissolve
and relax this fraternal cement. When brothers
seek their way to preferment by the same path or
channel, it is hardly possible mit they must oftea
jostle and hinder one another. Moreover, why is it
necessary that the correspondence and relation,
which creates such true and perfect friendship, should
be found in kindred ? The father and the son may
happen to be of a quite contrary disposition, and so
may brothers. This is my son : this is my father,
but he is passionate, a knave; or a fool. And th«i,
the more those friendships are required of us by law
and the obligations of nature, so much the less is
there in them of our own choice and voluntary free-
dom ; and, indeed, our free will has no production
more properly its own, than that of i^Section and
friendship. Not that I have not myself experienced
all that is possible in this respect, having had the best
of fathers, who was also the most indulgent even to
extreme old age, and descended of a &mily, for
many generations famous and exemplary for this bro«
therly concord :
Ei ip^e
Notus infratres animi patemLX
* In Plutarch's Treatise of Brotherly Love, ch. 4,
f That is to say, that accoi-dine to the usage established in Mon-^
talgne's time, they gave one anotner the style of brothers, as it was
to be the token and pledge of tiie friendship which they had con^
tiacted. And upon the same principles, Mademoiselle de Gourvay»
styled herself IVlontaigne's daughter, and not because Montaigne
married her motlier, as I have heard it afiirmed in eood company*
t Hor.lib.ii-Ode2.
OF FRIENDSHIP. ^W
'And I myself was known to proTe
A lather in fraternal love.
•As for the love we bear to women, though it arises
from our own choice, we are not to bring it into
comparison, or rank it with the others. Its fire, I
cohiess, .
(Neque enim est Dea nescia nostri
QiuB dalcem cur is miscet amaritiem.*
Nor is my goddess ign'rant what I am^
Who pleasing anguish mixes with my flame.)
is more active, more eager and sharper ; but withal
it is liQore precipitant and fickle, wavering and vari-
able ; a fever suDJect to paroxysms and intermission,
that is confin^ to only one comer of our fabric ;
whereas in fiiendship it is one general and universal
heat, but temperate and equal ; a heat that is con-
stant and settled, all easy and smooth, without any
particle that is rough and poignant Moreover, in
love there is nothing more than a frantic desire of
what flies from us :
Com sesue la lepre U cacciaiore
Aljrmdoj al caldo,. alia numtagnat altiiio:
Ne piu Festkna fwi, chepresawdet
El sol dietro i chi Jngge qffretta il piede.\
Like hunten that die flyii)ghtfe pursue
O'er hilb and dale, through beat and morning dew ;
Which being caught, the quarry they despise,
Being only pleas'd in following that which flies.
As soon as ever love has contracted articles of
umity, that is to say, as soon as there is a concur-
rence of desires, it languishes and vanishes, for frui-
tion destroys it, as having only a carnal appetite ^ and
such a one as is subject to satiety. ]f rijsndship, on
the contrary, is enjoyed in prgportion as it is desired,
and it «ily grows up, thrives and increases by enjoy-
ment, as being of itself spiritual, and the soul is re-
fined by the very practice of it With this perfect
* Catullus, Ep. 66. t Ariosto, cant z. stanz. 7.
22© OF FRIENDSHIP.
friendsliip, I cannot derty but those wavering affec
tions haye formerly found some place in my breast^
not to say a word of my friend Boetius^ who con-
fesses but too much of it in his verses. Consequently
both thes^ passions have taken possession of me» but
so that I knew the one from the other, and never set
them on a par, the first soaring aloft with majesty,
and looking down with disdain qn the latter^ stretch-
ing its pinions fyx below it
ull^of'ihc ^^ *^ marriage, besides its bein^ a covenant, the
r"arirag#!|° entrance into which is altogether tree, but the con-
coocraci. tinuaucc in it forced and compulsory, and ha^g
another dependence than on that of our own free
will, and it being also a contract commonly made
for other ends; there are a thousand intricacies in it
to unravel, enough to break the thread, and inter-
nipt the current of a lively afibction ; whereas in
friendship there is no ^on^merce or transaction^ but
within itself.
^**"*^ Moreover, to say the truth, the ordinary talent of
to^bTiDc^. women is not such as is sufficient to keep up that eor-
P*J^^^^ i despondence and communication, whi^h are neces*
Fr!L'ii8btp| sary for cultivating this sacred tie ; nor dp they seem
I to DC endued with that constancy of min<i, to bear
^ the constraint of so hard and durable a knot Could
there really be such ^K'ifree and voluntary familiarity
contracted, where not onl^ the soul might have thw
1 entire fruition, but the body also share in the aniance^
? and the whole man be engaged in it, it is certsun that
the friendship would be more entire and coinplete ;
but there is no instance that this sex ever yet attained
\ to such perfection, and by the ancient schools it is
\ denied it ever can.
Friendship The Other Grecian licence is justly abhorred by
tJi*e"*UTy our moralists, which, however, for having according
muchinu.eto their practice so necessary a disparity of age, and
Grceku difference of offices between the lovers, bears no
J^J*"- , more proportion than the other to the perfect union
J^pfniow of and harmony that is here required. Quis est etiim
^^ ' isle nmor amicitice? Cur vcqvc deformem adoUs-
OF FRISXBSHIFi 221
cent em quisquam Umai^ neque formdsunt seftemf^
•• For what m^ans this love of friendship ? How
•* comes it to pass that nobody loves a deformed
••youth, nor a handsome old man?" Neither do I
conceive that the picture which the academy give^
of it, will be a contradiction to my assertion, that
the first fury inspired by the son of Venus into the
heart of the lover, upon the sight of blooming youth;
to which they allow all the insolent and passionate
eiR>rts that an immoderate ardour can produce, was
singly founded on external beauty, the false image
of corporeal generation ; for it could not be' found
on the mind which was yet undiscoverable, being but
now springing forth, and not of maturitjr to blossom :
which fury, it it seized upon a mean spirit, the object
of its pursuit were riches, presents, p-eferments, and
such sorry goods, as they by no means approve ; but
if this fury fell upon a more generous soul, the means
used were also generous, such as philosophical in-
structions, precepts to revere religion, to obey the
laws, to die. for the good of one's country, to give
instances of valour, prudence, and justice ; the lover
studying to render himself agreeable by the grace
and oeauty of his mind, that of his body being long
ago decayed, and hoping by this mental- society to
establish a more firm and lasting contract. When
this courtship had its eiiect in its due season (for
what they do not require in the lover, namely, uiat
he should take time and use discretion in his court-
ship, they strictly require in the person loved ; for-
asmuch as he is under a necessity to judge of internal
beauty, difficult to know and discover), then there
sprung up in the person beloved a desire of spiritual
conception, by the intervention of a spiritual beauty.
This was the principal: the corporeal, accidental,
and second causes, are all the reverse or wrong side
of the lover. For this reason they prefer the oerson
loved, prove that tiie gods do the same, and highly
* Cic Tusc. Qu»8t. lib. iv. cap. 33,
823 OF FBIfiNDSGrir*
blame the poet iEschylus, for havi^5 in the amoim
of Achilles and Patroclus, given the lover's part to
Achilles, who was in the first iBower and pubescency
o^ ^outh, and the handsomest of all the Greeksi
This general familiarity being once settled, supposing
its most worthy proof to be predominant and to per-
form its proper offices, they sa^, that frcmi thence
great benefit accrued, both to pnvate persons and thQ
public ; that it was the strength of tnose countries^
which admitted the practice of it j and the chief dc:^
fence of justice and liberty. Witness the salutiferous
amours of Harmodius and Aristogiton. They there^
jfore call it sacred and divine, and think that it has
no enemy but the violence of tyrants, and the
cowardice of the common people. In short, all that
can be allowed in favour of the academy, is to say,
that it was an amour which terminated in friendship;
and this also agrees well enough with the stoical de*
fmition of love. Amorem conatum esse amicitite^faci-
enda ex pulchritudinis specie ;• ** That love is an
*^ endeavour of contracting friendship by the sj^en*
" dour of beauty."
The eon. I rctum to my definition of a species of friendship
jdr^^lbip that is juster and more uniform tiian what has been
character, mentioned. Omnino amicitiaj corroboratisjam can*.
'****• jii^matis ingeniisy et (ttattbus^ jtidicanda sunt:i
^^ There is no judging of friendship till the persons
*^ are arrived to the maturity of years and under*
** standing/' As for the rest, what we commcHily
call friends and friendship are but acquaintances con-
tracted, either occasionally or for some advantage,
by means of which there happens an a^reementof
our minds : but in the friendsnip I am treating of,
our souls mingle and interweave themselves one with
another so universally, that there is no more sigii of
the cement, by which they were first joined together*
If I am pressed to give a reason why I loved him, I
find it cannot be expressed otherwise than by saying^
* Cic. Tusc. Qiuesu lilk ir/cap. S4. f Cic. de Asucitia, cap. 20*
OP FBIENB^Hlfk 223
** Because it was he : became it wis I." There waft
I know not what unaccountable power of destiny
that brought about this union, beyond all that I can
say in general or particular. We sought for, before
we saw, each other by the cbamcters we heard one
of another, whidi wrought more upon our affections
than, in reason, mere reports ^onld do. I thinks
by some secret appointnient of heaven, we loved to
hear each other named. At our first meeting, which
was accidental at a city feast, we were all at once so
taken with each other, so well acquainted, and so
mutually obliging, that from thence-forward nothing
was so dear to us as the one to the other. Ij[e wrote
an excellent Latin satire, v^hich is published, where-
in he excuses and accounts for the suddenness of our
ac<][uamtance, and its being so soon brought to ma*
tunty.^ He said, that it being like to have so short
a continuance, as it was contracted so late in life
(for we were both full grown men, and he the oldest
by a year or two), there was no time to lose ; nor was
it to be regulated by the pattern of those effeminate
and formal friendships, that require so many precau-
tions of a long preliminary conversation.
This is no otner idea than that of itself, and can The qain.
have no relation but to itself. It is not one psirtiVJJJ^IJ**^
cular consideration, nor two^ nor three, nor four,thip.
nor a thousand. It is I know not what quintessence
of aU this mixture, which, having engrossed my
whole will, carried it to be plunged and absorbed in
his ; and which, having engrossed all his will, brought
it back with the like appetite and concurrence, to
be plunged and absorbed in mine. I may truly say
absorbed, having reserved nothing to ourselves that
was our own, or that was either his or mine. When
LseUus, in presence of the Roman consuls (who,
after they had condemned Tiberius Gracchus, prose-
cuted all ti^ose who had held a correspondence with
' ' *^* ' See Flutardi in the life of Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, chap.
B, Vder. Max. lib. i?; cap. 7» in Exemplis Romania^ sect. 1.
S24 OF PRIEKDSHIFl
him)r came to ask Caiusi Blosius, who was his chief'
friend, ** What he would have doiie for himi ?" And
that he made answer, ** Every thing.'^ ** How!
*^ every thing !'* continued he s ^^ And what i£ he
^< had commanded thee to set fire to our "temples?"
^* He would never have laid that command on me,"
replied Blosius : ^ But what if he had i" said Lsdius^
" Why, if he had," said the other, *♦ I would have
^^ obeyed him." If he was ao perfect a iriend to
Graqchus as history reports him to have been, he
was under no necessity of offending the consuls by
such a bold confession as the last, and might still have
retained the assurance he had of Gracchus's good
will. Nevertheless they who accuse this as a sedi-»
tious answer, do not well understand this mystery,
nor suppose what is a fiict ; that he was now master
of Gracchus's will, both by the power of a fiiend^
and the knowledge he had of the man« They were
more friends than citizens, and more friends to one
another than either friends or enemies to their coun*
try, or than friends to sunbition and disturbance*
Having absolutely resigned themselves to one another,
each perfectly held the reins of the other's incUna^
tion, which aJso they governed by virtue, and guided
by reason (without wnich it wer6 altogether impose
sible to draw in the harness). Blosius's answer was
such as it ought to have been. If either acted hand
over head, they were not friends according to my
notion, either one to the other, or to their own dear
selves. As for the rest, tliis answer carries no worse
sound than mine would do, if any one should ask me,
if my will commanded me to kill my daughter, would
I kill her ? and I should make answer that I would i
for this carries no evidence of consent to do it
Because I do not in the least suspect my own will,
and as little that of such a friend* It is not in the
power of all the arguments in the world to dispossess
me of the certainty I have of the intentions and opi*
nions of my friends ^ nay, no one action of his, witat
face soever it might bear, could be represented to
jbe, of winch I could not immediately discover the
ttiotiye. Our souls have kept so even a pace toge-
ther, aiid we have with such a fervent affection laid
open the very bottom of our hearts to one another's
View, that I not only know his as well as I do my
own, but should certainly much rather trust my in*
terest with him than with myself.
Let no one therefore rank other common friend- me idn of
idiips with such a one as this. Of those I have had^^j^j^^,
as much e^erience as any one, and of the most per- "^^ '*
feet too of their kind : but I am not for confounding
the rules of the one with the other, which whoever
were guilty of^ Would find himself deceived. In
those other ordinary friendships, a man must act^
with great prudence, precaution, and circumspee-
tiod, we knot of such mendships being not so strong
^hat a man can be sure it will not slip : ^^ Love him,^
said Chilon,* " as if you were one day to hate him j
** and hate him as if you were one day to love him."
This precept, though so abominable in the sovereign
frietidship I am treating of, is of service in the prac*
tice of tne ordinary common friendships, to which
may most iostly be applied an exclamation bfleh used
by Aristotle,t viz; * a f »x«;, HtU ? *'xoc, " O my friends !
" there is no friend !"
In this sublime state of friendship, so hearty is the Amoogyf
concurrence of our wills, that the oflSces and bene- fjln^ .re
fits, which are the support of the inferior class ofc
friendships, do not deserve so much as to be men-
tioned here ; for in the veir. same manner as the
fiiendship I bear to myself'^ receives no increase,
^^In AtiliM GeUiuSy lib. L cap. S. Diogenes Laertius» in the life of
Bias, attributes this styin^ to tnat wise man, lib. i. sect. 7» as Aristo-
tle had done before, in his Ilhetoricy lib. ii. cap. IS, whm we read
the second artide, tIz. ** That a man should be hated, as if some^
^ day hereafter he should be loved;'' which is not in Diogenes La-
trtiua. As to the irst article. ** That a man should only be loved
** as if he were some dscy to be hated." Cicero says, that he caa-
notimaginesaGh an expression came from Bias, one of the s^^
wise men* D^ Amicitue, cap. 16.
t Diogenerl4Mrli«^in.the life of Ari8toae^Ub.v. sect
VOL. I. Q
%99 OF FRIENDSHIP*
whatever I relieve myself withal in a case of neces-^
stty (say the Stoics what they will), and as I do not
find myself obliged to myself, for the service I do
to myself: so the nmon of such fiiends being truly
perfect, maekes them insensible of such obligations,
and causes them to loath and banish from their c6n«
versation the words benefit, obligation^ acknowledg-
ment, entreaty, thanks, and the Uke terms of. dis-
tinction and mfierence. Every thing being in efl^ct
common between them; as thoughts, judgments,
estates, wives, children, honour, and life, ai^ their
agreement being as entire as if it was but one sold in
two bodies, they cannot be said, according to
Aristotle's very proper definition,* either to lend or
give any thing to one another. This is the very
reason why the legislators, to honour marriage i^th
9ome imaginary resemblance of this divine union,
prohibit aU gif^ between the husband and wife, ' by
which they would have it inferred, that all tk^ b<rtn
had, ought to be the property of each ; anii that
they have notMng of which to make a separate divi-
dend.
tiJSrtir* ^^ ^ *^ friendship of which I treat, the one
thegiveHs could give to the other, he, who receives the fiivour,
ch^*^ ^" would thereby lay his companion under the obliga-
«^ter. tion ; for each o£ them seeking above all things to
be useful to one another, he that frimishes the ihat*
ter and the occasion, is the liberal man, in. giving his
friend the satis&ction of doing that for him which he
most desires. When the phik>sopher, Diogenes,
wanted money, he said, ^* that he re-demanded, it of
" his friends, and not demanded it."t And to let
you see a full proof of this practice, I will here re-
late an instance of it in amcient history, which is
. very singular. Eudamidos, a Corinthian, who was a
"poor man, had two friends who were wealthy, viz*
Charixenus a Syconian, and Aretheus a Corinthian, to
; * Diog. Laer. in the Life of Aristotle, lib. y. sect. 20. .
f Diogr Laer. in the Life of Diogenet the Cynic, lib. vi. 8ect.46*
OF FRIfiNDiiHm 227
xehoniy on his death-bed, he left these legacies by Im
last wUl and testament, viz.* '^ I leaveit to.Aretheus
*^ to keep my mother, and to maintain her in her old
^^ age ; to Charixehus to provide a husband for my
«^ daughter, and to give her as good a portion as he
^ can, and in case one of these friends happens to
^^ die, I substitute tile survivor in his place/' They
who. first saw this will, made themselves . verry merry
with it, but his executors, being made acquainted
with it, accepted of the trust with, a particular
]deasure : and one of them, viz. Charixenus, dying
within five days after, Aretheus, on whom the charee
of both thereby devolved, took special care of the
mother, and, of five talents, which he had in the
bank, he gave two and a half in marriage with an
only daughter he had of his own, and the other two
and a haff in marriage with the daughter of Euda^
midas, whose nuptials were both solemnized on the
same daj.
This instance is very fuU to the point, Were it not Perfect
for one objection, viz. the number of friends. ^or\^^l^^l^^
the perfect friendship whereof I am speaking is in^ bie.
(^visible. Each of me two gives himself up so en-
tirely to his friend, that he has nothing left to dis-
pose of elsewhere ; on the contrary, he is sorry that
he is not double, treble, or quadruple, and that, he
has not a plurality of souls and of wUls, to confer
them all upon this subject*.
As for the ordinanr friendships,, they are divisiWe. The ordt.
One may love the beauty of this, the courtesy ofJJ5%^,,,jpi
that person, the • liberality of a third, the paternal ">ay be
affection of one, the brotherly love of another, and so li^^p^^
of the rest ; butasfi^r this friendship which engrosses ■<»«».
the whole soul, and governs it with absolute sway, it
is impossible it shoudd be twofold. If two at the
same time should call on you for help, to which of
them would you run ? Kthey desired contrary offices
* This instance is taken from a Dialogue of Lucian entitled
Tozaris.
Q2
99B 6t tSt£irD8&».
of yoti, how would jou order it? Should t!ie ohe
ehftrge you with the keeping of a secret, which it
iras prcmer thejr both should know, how woidd yoa
come on?
A diisdar ' The friendship which is of the sin^ukr and
f!wSM^, sovereign kind, dissolves all other obligations. The
diKowes ' secret, wluch I have sworn not to reveal to another, I
^1^^ may without peijuxT communicate to -him who is not
ti«n. imother, but myself. It is miraculous enough for a
man to double himself, bot they who talk of trebling
Ihemsehres know not yrhat they say. Nothing is ex«
treme that has its like ; and whoever supposes, that
of twofNBSBons, I love one as much as the other, and
that they mutually love another, and love me u
much as I Jove ihem, h^ multiplies into a fiatemity,
the greatest and most suurle m units, of which one
alone is also the rarest thing in the wcnrld to find.
Xhe remain]]]^ part of this story agrees very wdl with
what I was saying ; for Eudiuhidas, as a grace and
favour to his fiiends, employs them sn his oeces^ty,
and leaves them heirs to this liberality of his, which
consists in giving them an qpportunity of dcdng him
a 0ood office. And, without doubt, the power of
friendship is more eminently apparent in this action
of his, than in that of Aretneus. In fine, these are
lefiects not to be imagined by such as have not had
experience of them, and there&re I highly honour
the answer of the young soldier to Cyrus, who, when
he asked him what he would take for a horse, with
which he had just won the prize at a race, and
whether he would exchitnge tiim for a kin»lom ?
•* No, truly. Sir,'* said he, "but I would fredy part
* ^ with him to gain a £dend, could I find a muk
^ worthy of such a relation.'** He was ri^t enough
in saying, " could I find,'* for though it is an easy
matter to find persons qualified for a superficial ac«
euaintance, yet, in such a league of ^men^hip as
this, wherein the negotiation is carried on firom the
* Cyropsdia, lib. yuL Wf. S, i^cU 11, 12r
OF miEKDaHip.* ^g§
very bottom of the heart, without any reserve, it ib
requisite that all the springs and movements of it
should be clear and peirectly sure.
In confedersicies which hold but by one end, orwkatiis*.
have but one point to serve, there needs J^othing^J^^
more than to make provision for the imperfectioiuciei. ^^
which particularly concern that end. It can be of
no moment what religion my physician is of, or my
lawyer, this being a consideration quite foreign to
the offices of friendship, which they owe me.
I am altogether as indifierent in regard to my do- And in 4«.
kn^tic'acquaiiitance with my servants : I am not so JJ2^*^
inquisitive to know whether my footman be chaste^ teace.
as whether he be diligent; and am not so much
in fear that my chairman is a gamester, as that he ia
weak i or my cook a swearer, as that he is ignorant*
I do not take upon me to dictate what others should
do i there are enough that are guil^ of this. I
<mly give an account of what X do in my own
boii^:
Miki sic usus est I TUi ut opus esi facto, face J^
This has my pracdoe been 5 but thou may'st do.
What iQteKst or pleasure prompu thee to.
/ in table-talk, JL prefer the merry man before the
' wise one ; m bed, beauty before^ goochiessj and in
common conversation, the mosrabr& speaker, even
though he does not always mean what he says ; and
so of other things. If he that was found riding on
a hobby-horse,t at play with his diildren, desired the
man, who surprised mm at it, to 3ay nothing of the
matter till he came to be a father himself, imagining,
that the passion of fondness, which would then arise
in his soul, would render him a more proper judge of
such an action ; so I woiild wish to be read by such
as have had experience of what I say j but knowing
• Terence Heaut. act 1, scepe l,Ter.2S.
f It was Agetikus who was found thus playing with his childlren.
Plutarch in the life of AgesilauSi cap. 9.
230 07 FRIENDSHIP.
liow different such friendship is from the way of the
world, and howdiard it is to be found, I do not ex-
pect to meet with any person qualified to be a judge
of the thing. For even those discourses, left us on
this subject by the ancients, are flat and languid, ac-
cording to my notion of the matter. And in this
point the effects surpass the precepts of philosophy :
jyi7 ego confulerim jucundo sanus anUco,*
I know no pleasure that can health attead,
' E^ual to that q{ a facetious friend.
Menander- pronounced that man happy who had
the good fortune to meet with the shadow of a
friend :t and indeed he had good reason for saying
so, if he spoke by experience. For, in truth, if 1
compare all the rest of my life, though, God be
thanked, I have always lived easy and pleasant, and
(excepting thc^ loss of such a friend) exempt from
any grievous affliction, and in great tranquillity of
mind, having been contented with my natural and
original conveniences, without being solicitous for
others, if I compare it all> I say, to those four years
that I had the enjoyment of the sweet conversation
of this excellent man, it is all but smoke, and one
darl^ tedious night, Froip the day that I lost him
- Quem semper acerbttm.
Semper honoratum {sic Dii voluistis) habelo.X
Which, since 'lis heav*n's decree, though too severe,
I shall lament, but ever shall revere,
I have only languished in life, and the very pleasures
that present themselves to me, instead of comforting
me, double my affliction for the loss pf him. We
w ere half sharers in every thing ; and, methinks, by
outliving him, I defraud him of his share :
* Hor. lib. i. sat 5^ ver. 44.
t Plutarchy in his Tract of Brotherly Love, cap. 3«
^ Virg. i£neid, lib. v. yer, 49, 50.
Nee* JUS essetdla me voJuptitte Hie Jrut ^ ' '
' ' Decreviy tanthper dum Ule abestp meus particeps^f
No pleasing Ihoug^ shall e'er my soul employ^
While he Is absent who was aU my jory,
I was actually so constituted, and so accustomed to
be his second part at all times and places, that,
methinks, I have but one half of myself left :
jih ! te moB si partem onhius rapit
Maturior vis, quid moror altera.
Nee chorus ieque^ nee superstee
Integer? Illediesutramque
Ducet rumamJl
Should you, dasi be snatch^'d away.
Wherefore, ah1 wherefore should Istay:
My comfort lost, myseflf not whole, - •
And but possessinff half my soul 1
One &tal day shaU seize on botli.
There is no action or imagination of mine "wlierein I
do not miss him^ as much as if he had been really
created for me ; for as he infinitely surpassed me in
virtue, and every other accomplishmentj Jie also did
the same in the duties of friendship:
C^desiderio sit pudor^ out modus
Tom chart capitis P§
Why should we stop the flowbg tear?
Why blush to weep for one so dear ?
0 nusero, frater adempte^ mihi t
Omma tecum una perierunt gaudtattostra,
: Qute tuus in vita, dulds alehat amor.
Tu mea, tu moriens fregisti commoda, frater.
Tecum una tota est nostra sepuUa anrnia* .
Cujus ego inleritu tota de mente fiigavi
HiPC studia* atque omnes ddictas antmi. '
jiUoquor f audtero nunquam tua verba loquentemf
Nunquam ego te vita, Jrater amabiUor,
* Aspiciam post hoc f (d certe semperamaloJ^
* Montaigne has here made some litde ▼ariatkm im Terence*j
iFords, for the sake of applying them to his subject,
\ Terence Heaut. act I, scene I, ver. d7f 9& ^
X Hor.lib. ii;odezviLTer.5,&c« ^
§ I}or. Ub. i. ode xxiv. ver. 1,2. «
II Catulltis, eclogue lxyi.?eK. 20— 26. EcIog.lxiii*yer.9^ 1(V 11«
JU9 OrrBIEKMR9«
Ah ! brother^ what a life did I oDmtDCOCc,
From that sad day wheD tho^ wast snatch'd fton heaoe r
Those joys are vanish'd which my heart once knew^
When in sweet convene all our moments flew :
With thee departing, my ^ood fortune fled.
And all my soul is lifeless smce thou*rt dead.
The Muses attby fun'ral I foFBOok,
And of all joy my leave for ever took.
Dearer than life ! am I so wretchecl then,
Never to hear or speak to thee again ?
Nor see those lips, now frozen up by deaih ?
Yet I will love thee to my latest oreath !
But let US hear a little what this lad of sixteen
years of age says ; ^^ Having discovered that those
^< memoirs, upon the fiimous edict of January Qmen-
"^ tioned towards the beginning of this .chapter), are
♦* already printed, and with a had design, oy some,
^^ who make it their business to molest and to sub«
** vert the state of our government, not cariDg
** whether they amend it or no, and that they
*V have published it in a miscellanjr of other pieces
** of their own writing, I diesisted 'from my desi^
^* of inserting it here. And to the end that the
" memory of the author may not sufier with such as
'^^ were not intimate enough with him to have a
^ thorough knowledge of his opiinons and his p^n
*^ formances, I hereby give him to understand, that
^^ this suUect was treated by him in his youth, and
^ that only by wa^ of exercising his geuiiis, it being
^^ a common subject that has been canvassed by
*< writers in a thousand places. I make no doubt
** but he himself beKeved what he writ, being so
^ very conscientious that he would not be guilty of
^< tellmg a lie, even in jest ; and I knoifir) moreover,
^ that if it had been piit to his choice, that he had
*• rather have been bom at Venice th^n at Scarlac,
*^ and he had reason. But he had. another maxim
** deeply imprinted in his mind, very religiously to
^ obey and submit to the laws under which he was
•> bom. There never was a better subject, nor a
«.< greater well-wisher to the tranquilhfy of his
A LKTTER TO MADAH DS ORAMMONT. SS)
*^ ccmntry, nor oro thi^ more opposed the eom«
^^ motions and innovations of the time he lived in,
^^ so that he would much rather have employed his
'* talents to suppress them, than to have inflamed
*^ them more ; tor be had a mind formed after the
*^ model of other times than these. Now, in exm
^^ change for this serious piece, I will present yoq
^ with anotiber .that is more gay and airy, written by
^^ thefiMnehand^atthesameage/*
CHAPTER XXVIII,
A Letter to Madam de Gramnwntf Countess of.
Guissen^ with twenty^nine Sonnets.
JVIaDAM, I offer your ladyship nothing of minq,
either because it is already yours, or because I find
nothing of my writing worthy of you : but I was
desirous that these verses, into what part of the
world soever they travel, may carry your name ia^
the front, for the honour that will accrue to themy.^<
by having the great Corisanda de Andonis for their
guide* 1 conceive this present^ Madam» the more
proper for you, forasmucn as there are but f^w ladies
Ui France who have a better taste of poetry, and
make a better use of it, than you ; and none who can
give it that life and spirit which your ladyship does.^
y that sweet and graceful melody in your voice, ox
which, among a million of other charms, nature ha^
made you a present. These verses. Madam, are
worthy of your patronage, and I dare say you will
be of my opinion, that Gascony never yielded any
that had more imagination and elegance, or that
cariy the marks of a more copious rancy. And do
not be jealous that you have out the remainder of
lirhat I published under the patronage of M. de Foix,
your worthy kinsman ; fi)r really, these have some-t
thing in them of more life and nre, forasmuch as. he
2S4 OF MOIXeiLATIOK* '
wrote them in his greener years^ and when, he
was inflamed with a certain noble ^rdour, which, one
day or other, I will whisper in your ear. The others
were written aftem^^ards, when he was making court-
ship to his wife, and savouring already of a certain
matrimonial coldness. For my part, I am of the
same opinion with those, who think that poetry ap-
pears . no where so gay as it does on a wanton and
irregular subject. These twent^*nine > sonnets of
Stephen de Boetius, which ^ere inserted in this let-
ter formerly,* have since been printed with his works.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Of Moderation^
X HIN6S which are in themselves fair and good,
are liable to be spoiled by our handling, as if there
Whether was something infectious in our very touch. Virtue
li^l^u^" .itself will become vice if we dasp it with a desire
•iter with too. eager and violent As for saying that there is
Vdl^ncv.never any excess of virtue, because it is no longer
virtue if there be excess in it, it is mere playing
upon words:
Insani sapiem nomenferatf aequm imqui^
Ultra qudm salts esi^ virtuiem si petal ipsamf
Mad grows the wise, the just unjust is found.
When e'en to Tirtue they prescribe no bound.
This is a subtle consideration in philosophy. A mail
may both be too much in love with virtue, and cany
himself to excess in a just action. Holy writ agrees
* They are inserted in Abel Angelier's quarto edition, printed at
Paris in 1588. I do not swell this edition with them, because I do
not find any thing in them that is very afiecting ; for they scarce con-
tain any thing in them but amorous complaints, expressed in a very
rough style, discovering the follies and outrages oi a restless pas.
aion/overgorged, as it werei with jealousies, fears, and suspicions.
t Hor. lib. L epist. 6.
OF K0DERATI0I7. 235
with this way of thinkings St. Paul's Epistle to the
Komans, ch. xii..ven 3. "No man should think of
*' himsdf more highly than he ought, but think so-
** berly.*^ I knew a great man who blemished his
reputation for religion, by making a show of greater
devotion thafi all men of his condition.* I love na-
tures that are temperate, and between the extremes.
An immoderate zeal, even for that which is good. An inmo.
'though it does not offend me, astonishes me ; and I fo^iilt***
really am at a loss what name to give it. Neither the ^"«*" ^
mother of Pau8anias,t who first pointed out the way,***^
and laid the first stone for the destruction of her son;
nor the dictator Posthumius, who put his son to deaths
whom the heat of youthfbl blood had pushed with
Buccess upon the enemy a little before the other sol-
* It is like that Montaigne meant Henry III. king of France.
The Cardinal d' Osaat, writing to Louisa, his Que^i Dowager, tdd
Jier, in bis frank nuuiner, that he had lived as much or more like «
monk than a monarch. Letter xxiii. And Sextus Quintus speak-
ing of that prince one day to the Cardinal de Joyeuse, protector of
the ^ffiurs of France, said to him pleasantly, ** There is nothing
^ that your king hadi not done, and does not do still, to be a monk,
'^ nor any thii^ that I have not done, not to be a monk.*' See the
jiote by Amelot de la Houssaye upon the words of the Cardinal
d' Ossat, just now mentioned, p. 74, torn. i. of the Cardinal d' Ossat's
Letters, published at Paris in 1698.
f Montaigne would hefe give us to understand, upon the autho-
rity of Diodorus of Sicily, that Pausanias's mother gave the first
hint of the punishment that was to be inflicted on her son. ^* Paui-
^* sanias,'* says this historian, "perceiving that the eph6ri, and some
*^ other Lacedaemonians aimed at apprehending him, got the start
'^ of them, and went and took sanctuary in Minerva's temple : and
** the Lacedaemonians, being doubtful whether they ought to take
" him from thence in violation of the franchise there, it is said that
" his, own mother came herself to the temple, but spoke nothing, ,
*^ nor did any thing more than lay a piece of brick, which she
'* brought with her, on the threshold of the temple, which, when
** she luul done, she returned home. The Lacedaemonians, taking
'* the hint from the mother, caused the gate of the temple to be
" walled up, and by this means starved Pausanias, so that he died
*' with hunger, &a" lib. xi. cap. 10 of Amyot's translation. The
name of Pausanias's mother was Alcithea, as we are informed by
Thucydides's scholiast, who only says that it was reported, that
when they set about walling up the gates of the chapel in which
Pausanias had taken refuge, his mother Alcithea laid the first
stone.
336 OF HODEEATIOir.
diers of his rank ;* neither of these instances, I sav;
seem to me so just as they are strange ; and I shoiud
not like either to advise or imitate a virtue, so savage,
and so expensive. The archer that shoots beyond
the mark misses it as much as he that comes short of
it And it offends my sight as much to lift up my
eyes, on a sudden, towards a great li^t, as to cast
them down to a dark cavern. Callicles, in Plato,
says, that the extremity of philosophy is hurtflil, and
advises not to dive deeper into it tnan what may turn
to good account ; that, taken with moderation, it is
pleasant and profitable, but, in the extreme, it renders
a man brutish and vicious, a contenmer of religion
and the common laws, an enemy to civil conversa-
tion, and all human pleasures, incapable of all polh
tical administration, and of assisting others, or even
himself, and a fit object to be buflfetted with impu-
nity* And he says true ; for in its excess it enslaves
our natural Uberiy, and, by an impertinent curiosity,
leads us out of the fair and smooth path, which has
been planned out for us by nature,
i^eto Though the love we bear to our wives is very law-
^nMbjfol^ yet divinity curbs and restrains it I think I
4ivioity. have formerly met with a passage in St. Thomas
Aquinas, where he condemns marriages within the
prohibited degrees of consanguinity^ for this, amcmg
other reasons, viz. the danger there is lest the love k
husband bears to such a wiS should be immoderate;
* Opinions differ ai to the truth of this fact^ Titus Livius thinb
he has good authority fbr rejecting it» because it does not appear
in history that Posthumius was branded with it, as Titus Manlius
was, about 100 years after his time ; for Manlius, having put his son
to death for the like cause, obtained the odious name of Imperiosus,
and since that time Manliana Imperia has been used as a term to
signify orders that are too severe ; Manliana Imperia, says Titus Li-
vius, .were not only horrible for the time present, but of a bad exam-
ple to posterity. And this historian makes no doubt but such com-
mands would nave been actually styled Posthumiana Imperia, if Pos-
thumius had been the first who set so barbarous an example. Titus
Livius, lib. iv. cap. 20, and lib. viii. cap. 7. But, however, Montaigne
has Valer. Maximus on his side, who sa^ s expressly, that Postliumius
caused his son to be put to death, lib. iL cap. 766, aad Diodorus of
Sicily, lib. xiL cap. 19.
<tt MODEftATIOir. . ±Si
for if the conjugal affection be as entire and perfect
as it ought, and it be increased, moreover, by that
which is due to consanguinity, there is no doubt but
such an addition woum cany the husband beyond
ibe bounds of reason.
The sciences which regulate the manners of man« m^mtf
kind, viz* theology and philosophy, dictate in every ^^^ ^^
thing. Tliere is no action, be it ever so private and u^ iL
aeci^ that can escape their cognizance and juris- ^^
diction. Hiis liberty assumed by philosophy and
theology,* is what none but the ignorant and the
vulgar take it in their heads to find fault with : and
in fliis they are like the wives who expose their parts
firedy enough to their gallants, but are shy or dis*
covering them to the ptiysician or the surgeon. I
will therefore, on the part of philosophy and divinity, t
give this lesson to the husbands, if such there be who
are too libidinous in the conjugal state, viz. That the
very pleasures they enjoy in their converse with their
•wives, are blameable if immoderate, and that a licen*
tious and intemperate abuse of it is as great an error
with a legitimate subject as with one that is illegid**
mate. As for the immodest caresses which the first
ardour suggests to us in this afikir, there is not only
an mdecency in employing them with our wives, but
a detrim^it. Let them at least learn impudence
from another hand. They are always alert enough
for our occasions. The instruction l have made use
of is perfectly natural and plain.
Marriage is a solemn and sacred tie ; therefore the Marrb^c^v
pleasure we extract from it should be temperate and ^^^^^^ ^
* If this be the sense of Montaigne's words, as I think it to be,
Mr. Cotton^ in his English translation, has very niudi mistaken it,
where he sayai ** But they are best taught, who are best able to
^ censure and curb their own liberty/' This is a constructioii
vhidi does not tally at all with what goes before, and much less
frith what Mows.
f Here the English translator is likewise mistaken, where he ^^a^
^ 1 will on the behalf of the wives teach the husband, Sec*' Few
wives would tiimk themselyes obliged to ibank Montaigne for suc)i a
ksicm to their husbands.
2d 8 Ot MODCEAtidlf.
serious, with a mixture of gravity. . It ought to bd
a pleasure in some sort discreet and conscientious.
c«ogr^« The chief end of it being generation, it is a matter
Bant wo^~ of doubt with some people, whether, when there are
Ben^prohi.|jQ hopcs of issue, as wnen women are past the age
of child-bearing, or when they are actually pregnant,
it is lawful to court their embraces. It is homicide,
according to Plato, (De Legibus, lib. viii. p. 912,
C. Francofurti, apud Claudium Maraium, &c. anno
I602). Certain nations, and particularly the Maho-
metans, abominate conjunction with women that are
already with child ; and many also with those that
. are in the menstrual terms.
Conjoirai Zenobia would never admit her husband for more
•Mitiiiency.u^j^jj onc eucountcr, after which she left him to take
his range abroad, during the whole time of her con-*
ception, and only allowed him to come to her bed
again after she was delivered.* A noble and gene-
rous example this in the married state !t It must
certainly be from some poor but very lascivious poet,
that Plato $ borrowed the following story, viz. That
Jupiter was one day so hot upon his wife, that not
having patience to stay till she was in bed, he threw
her down upon the floor, where, so vehement was his
{>lea$ure, that he forgot the great and important reso^
utions which he had just entered into with the other
gods, in his celestial court, and boasted that he had j
as much pleasure in that bout, as when he first got I
her maidenhead unknown to their parents.
wiva of The Persian monarchs invited their wiyes to their
P*^*°S^^'feasts ; but when the wine began to operate in good
received ateamcst, aud that they could not help giving a loose
* Montaigne has taken this passage from Trebellius Pollio's Ze*
nobia, p. 199, Hist. August*
f Plutarch, in his Matrimonial Precepts, sect 14.
% Mon^i^e here ridicules Homer witlwut thinking of it, for
this fiction is undoubtedly taken from the Uiad, lib. zit* ver. 19^
S53. See Plato's Republic, lib. iii. p. 433, printed at I^obs, by
William Leemar, in 1590. If Montaigne had looked into H(Hner, m
would not have been so mistaken as he has been in some drcum*
stances of this affiiir.
OP M0B2BATI0N'. S39
to pleasure, they sent them back to tUeur privtttb their fcto.
apartments, that they might not participate in their '**^
immoderate lust, and sent for otner women in their
stead, to whom they were not obliged to pay so much
respect. AH pleasures and gratifications do not suit
all persons. Epaminondas having caused a debauched
youth to be imprisoned, Pelopidas begged that, for
nis sake, he would grant him his liberty.* He re-
fused the favour to relopidas, but granted it at the
first word to a wench of^his who made the same in-
tercession, saying, ** that it was a gratification due
** to a mistress, but not to a captain." Sophocles,
passing along by accident, cried out, " Oh ]f what a
** delicate boy is that!" whereupon Pericles said to
him, this would do well for any body but a praetor,
who ought not only to have clean hands but chaste
eyes.t
^lius Verus, the emperor, when his empress re- coqjagrt
proached him with his love to other women, told herj^'^^j"^^"
that a principle of conscience was his motive for it, companted
forasmuch as marriage was a state of honour and dig- J^'^.**'
nity,t and not of toying and lascivious concupis-
cence. And our church history holds the memory
of that wife in great veneration, who parted with her
husband rather than comply with and bear his inde-
cent and inordinate dalliances. In short, there is
no pleasure how justifiable soever, wherein we are
not blameable for taking it with excess and intem-
perance.
But to speak the truth, is not man a wretched Man •■!
animal. It is scarce in his power, by his state of JJ^^JJ^^
nature, to taste a single pleasure pure and entire;
and yet he is labouring for arguments to curtail that
imperfect pleasure he has : he is not yet wretched
* Plutarch in his instructions to those who manage state affiurs»
obap. 9. Ainyot*s translation.
t Cic de Offic. lib. i. cap. 40.
^ ' I ^L Bpartaani ^lius VeruSy p. 15> 16. Hist. August! iafolio^
printed at Paris, anno 1620.
240 et MODEftATIOS.
cnought unless by art and study he increases his owtt
misery:
FbrturuB miseras auxtmus arte vids.*
We with misfortune 'gainst ourselves talce pait^
And our sad destiny increase by art.
Human wisdom makes a very foolish use of its ta*
lents, by exercising them in abating the number and
relish or those pleasures which we have a right to ; as,
on the other hand, it acts fiivourably and industriously
in employing its skill to put a doss and disguise
upon the misfortunes of lire to aUeviate the sense of
them* Had I been the chief manager, I should have
taken another more natural course, which, to say the
truth, is convenient and sacred, and perhaps I should
have been able to set limits to it ; although our phy-
sicians, both spiritual and temporal, as if they had
combined togetner, can find no other method of cure,
or remedy for the diseases of the body and soul, than
by torment, sorrow, and pain. To this end watch-
ings, fastings, penances, far distant and solitary ba-
nishments, perpetual imprisonments, scourgings, and
other afflictions, have been introduced into the world;
yea, and on such a condition, that they should be
real afflictions, and carry a sting in their tails ; and
that the consequence thereof should not be as hap-
pened to one Gallio,* who, having been banished to
the isle of Lesbos, news was brought to Rome, that
he lived as merry there as the day was long, and that
his banishment did not prove his punishment but his
pleasure ; for this reason they thought fit to recall
him to his wife and family, and confined him to his
own house, to make him more sensible of their
punishments.t For to the person whom fasting
would make more healthful and sprightly, and to
* Propert lib. iii. eleg. ii. ver* S9.
f A Roman senator banished for having ofiSmded TiberiuSy m
may be seen in Tacit. Annals, lib. vL cap. 2.
X According to Tacitus, be was recalled to Rono^ to be keg^
there in the custody of the magistratesi ibid^
OP MO]>ERATION. 24fl
whose palate &h would be more agreeable than
flesh, the prescription of either, medicinally, would
be of no salutary effect, no more than drugs in the
other sort of physic, which have no effect with him
who takes them with an appetite and pleasure. The
bitterness of the potion, and the aversion of the
patient to it, are circumstances that conduce to the
operation. Rhubarb itself would be of no virtue to
the constitution which is used to it. It must be
something which offends the stomach that must cure
it ; and here the common rule, that things are cured
by their contraries, fails; for in this, one evil is
cured by another.
This notion has some resemblance with that which The Hicri..
was anciently embraced by all religions and sects, ^^*^*''»n-
that massacre and homicide were acceptable to the pi^ti^ *
cods and to nature. Even in the time of our fore- ^imou ail"
rathers, Amurath sacrificed 600 young Greeks to the rcSgion*.
manes of his father, with a view that their blood
might serve as a propitiatory atonement for the sins
of nis deceased parent.
And in those new countries discovered in this age How pnu-.
of ours, which are pure as yet, and virgins, in com-^'^^^^JJ^'^
parison of ours, this practice is in some degree uni-
versally received. AJl their idols reek with human
blood, not without sundry examples of horrid cruelty.
Some they put ahve into a fire, and take them half
roasted out of it, to tear out their hearts and bowels:
others, even women, they flea alive, and put their
bloody skins on the bodies of others. There are also wooderfui
striking instances among them of constancy and reso-^J'JJl^^y
lution. For these poor victims, old men, women, who are
and children, go out some days before to beg almsJJ^J^^^***
for the offering of their sacrince, and present them-
selves to the slaughter, singing and dancing.
The king of Mexico's ambassador, representing the The prodi-
great power of their master to Fernando Cortez,^*J"^J^
after having told him that he had 30 vassals, each officii h^^ '
whom could assemble 100,000 fighting men, and thatjj^^'jj.^*"^
he kept his court in the fairest and best fortified city
VOL. !• R
^49 OF CANIOBAIS*
undfer the sun, added that he had 50,000 men to
spare, every year, for a sacrifice to the gods. , They
actually affirm, that he maintained a war with some
great neighbouring nations, not only for the exercise
of the youths of the country, but cniefly to have pri-
soners of war enough for his sacrifices.
Compii- At a certain town, moreover, they sacrificed 50
'^''"^^P****men at one time for the welcome of Cortez, to which
Americans I will add this story. Some of these nations, being
^^™J^ defeated by him, sent to compliment him, and to
court his friendship ; and the messenger carried him
three sorts of presents, which they delivered him in
this manner : Behold, lord, here are five slaves ; if
thou art a fierce god whose diet is flesh and blood,
eat these, and we will bring thee more. If thou act
a gracious god, here are plumes of feathers, and in-
cense i but if thou art a man, take these fowls and
fruits that we have brought thee.
CHAPTER XXX.
Of Cannibals.
W HEN king Pyrrhns, upon his entrance into
Italy, saw the order of the Roman army, that was
sent to meet him,* " I know not," said hei *• what
'^ kind of Barbarians (for so the Greeks call other
^^ naticHis) these may be ; but the dii^osition of the
" army, which I now see, has nothing of the Bar-
" barian in it." The same was said by the Greeks
concerning the army which Flaminius sent into their
country ; and by Pnilip, when he discovered, from
an eminence, the order and distribution of the Ro-
man camp, in his kingdom, under Publius Sulpitius
Gaiba. By this it appeai*s how cautious men ought
* Pluurch, in the Life of Pyrrha*.
OP CAXNIBALS. S43
to be of taking things upon trust, from vulgar opi-
nion, and that we are to judge by the eye of reasony
and not from common report.
I had a man with me a long time, who had lived R^flcctioni
ten or twelve years in the world lately discovered, coTei^ "r
and that part of itsumamed Antarctic France. This^^^^^*^^
discovery of so vast a country seems to be of very ^*
great importance ; and we are not sure, that there
may not be another discovered hereafter^ so many
f -eater mtn than we having been deceived in this.
am afraid that our ^es are biggeir than our bellies,
and that our curiosity is greater than our capacity.
We gra:^ at every thing, and catch nothing but air.
Plato introduces Solon* telling a story which he^he island
had heard from the priests of Sais, in Egypt, that in *'^^"*°^"-
old times, even before the flood, there was a great
island called Atlantis, directly at the mouth of die
strait of Gibraltar, which was bigger than Africa and
Asia both together ; and that the kin^ of this same
country, who not only possessed this island, but had
stretched themselves so fer into the continent, that
it extended the breadth of Africa as far as Egypt,
and the length of Europe as far as Tuscany, at-
tempted to encroach even upon Asia, and to subdue
all tne nations bordering on the Mediterranean Sea,
to the gulf of the Black Sea, and for this purpose
traversed Spain, Gaul, and Italy, even to Greece,
where t^ey were checked by the Athenians : but that
isome time after, both the Athenians and they, with
their island, were swallowed by the delude.
It is very probable that extraordinary inundations DeiQg«sdM
have made great changes in the earth, as it is said *^^ ^^^
that Sicily was rent by the sea from the main land of ratioot \u
fH^BC loca vi quondam, et vast& commlsa rmna,
Dissiluissefemni: cumprotinus utraque telbis
Unaforet.f
* In the Dialogue, entitled Timsus, p. 524>» 625*
t Virg, JEn. Kb. iii. vex. 414» 416, 417-
R2
/V^r./
244 OF CANNIBALS.
Tis said that bv an earthquake or a flood.
Too great and boisterous to be withstood,
Those places were from one another rent.
Which were before one solid continent.)
Cyprus from Syria ; the isle of Negropont from the
main land of R^eotia-; and in other parts joined lands
together that before were separate, filling up the
channels that were between them with mud and sand:
— *- Sterilesve diH pahuj aptaque remis,
Ficinas urbes alii, et grave sentit aratrum.*
Marahes long barren, where they boats did row.
Feed neighb'ring cities and admit the plough.
Cc L^l^^ ,\ fi"t i* is not very probable that the new world, lately
** ^^ discovered, was that island ; for it almost touched
upon Spain; and that an inundation should have
forced such a prodigious tract so far off, as above
1200 leagues from it, is incredible; besides that,
our modern navigators have already, in a manner,
discovered it to be no island, but Terra Firma, and
joining to the East Indies on one side, and with the
lands under the two poles on the other ; or if it be
separated from them, that it is by too narrow a
streight and interval, to deserve the name of an
island. It seems that in those great bodies, as it is
in ours, there are two motions, some natural, others
febrific. When I consider the impression that has
been made in my time, by our river Dordoigne, to-
wards the right-hand side as it runs down, and that,
in these twenty years past, it has gained so much,
and sapped the foundation of many buildings, I
plainly perceive it to be owing to some extraordinary
agitation ; for if it had always taken this course, or
was to do so hereafler, the present figure of the
world would be totally changed. But rivers are apt
to altet their course : sometimes they overflow on
one side, sometimes on the other, and at other times
quietly keep their channels. I do not speak of sud-
* Hor. de Art. Poet ver. 65, 66.
OF CAKKIBAL5. 245
den inundations, the cause of which we clesirly know. ^
In Medoc, by the sea-side, my brother, the Sieur
d'Arfac, sees an estate he had there buried under
the sands thrown up by the sea, where the tops of
some houses atre yet to be seen ; his revenues and ^
domains are converted into poor pastures. The in- /
habitants say, that for some years past, the sea has
drove so vehemently upon their coast, that they have
lost four leagues of land. These sands are harbingers
of its approach. And we now see great shoals of
moving sands, that roll on half a league before it,
and make a lodgment on the country.
The other testimony of antiquity, which some pro^ Ad humd
duce for this discovery, is in Aristotle, at least if w'**"?^^
that little history of miracles be his. He there says, thasiniansl
that certain Carthaginians, having crossed the At-
lantic Sea beyond Sie strait of Gibraltar, after a
long navigation, discovered a great fruitful island,
covered all over with wood, and watered with broad
deep rivers; far remote from any main land; and
that they, and others after them, aUured by the good-
ness and fertility of the soil, went thither with their
wives and children, and began to plant a colony.
But the senate of Carthage, perceiving their country
by degrees grow thin of people, issued out an express
prohibition, that no more should transport themselves
thither, upon pain of death, and also expelled the
new inhabitants, for fear, as it is said, lest, in pro-
cess of time, they should multiply to such a degree,
as to supplant themselves, and ruin their state. But |
this relation of Aristotle's no more agrees with our r
new-found country than the other. ^
This domestic of mine is a plain honest fellow, and The qnaii-
therefore the more likely to tell truth. Your men of |if^ .[^^'-
fine parts, indeed, are much more curious in their hutonao.
observations, and discover more particulars, but then
they make comments upon them, and to give the
better air to their glosses, and to gain them credit,
they cannot help making a little alteration in the
story. They never represent things to you simply
346 OF CANNIBALS*
as they are, but turn aad wind them accordxiig to
the Kght they appeared in to themselves ; and in i
order to gain a reputation to their judgment, and to i
draw you in to trust it, they ai e apt to lengthen and i
amplify the subject with something of their own in- ^
vention. Either a man must be of undoubted venu
city, or so simple that he has not wherewithal to com
trive to give an air of truth to fiction, and who is
wedded to no opinion. Such a one was my man ;
aaad besides, he has divers times showed me several
sailors and merchants, who went the same voyage
with him. Therefiwe I content myself with his in-
formation, without inquiring what the cosmographers
9lty of it.
i4nce to We would have topographers .to give us a parti-
write"o** ^^^ account of the places where they were. But
more on a bccause thcv bavc had this advantage over us, of
SSlT^'hat seeing the Holy X^and, they would have the privi^
i^y kiiow]^e, forsooth, of telling us stories of all the other
* *^ parts of the world. I would have every one write
what he knows, and as niuch as he knows of it, not
oidy on this, \Mt on all other subjects. For a mail
may have some particular knowledge or experience
0f^ nature of such a river, or such a spring, who,
as to other things, knows no more than any oth^
person ; and, nevertheless, fcur the sake of propa-
gating this smattering knowledge of his, he will un-?
diertake to write a whole history of natural phikK
sophy. A vice which is the source of several great
inconveniences.
BarbariMD, To rctum to my subject : I do not &id, by what I
uk«i for. ^^ ^^^^9 ^^^^ there is any thing wild and barbarous
in this nation, excepting that every one gives the
deoomination of barbarism to what is not the custom
of his country. As indeed we have no' other levdi
for aiming at truth and reason, but the ex^unple and
«dea of the opinions and customs of the countiy
wherein we live. There is always the true religion,
there is perfect government, and there the use of all
things m compkte and perfect There the pec^pte
OF CANNIBALS* 347
are wild^ just as we call fruits wild which nature
produces of itself, and in its ordinary progress;
whereas in truth we ought rather to call those wild
whose natures we have changed by our artifice^ and
diverted from the common (xrder: in the former^
their genuine and moit useful and natural virtues and
properties are vigorous and sprightly, but the latter
are degenerated by our accommodating them to th^
pleasure of our corrupted taste. And yet our palates
ever find a flavour and delicacy, excellent even to
emulation of the best of ours, in several fruits of
iliose countries that grow without cultivation*
It is not reasons^ble that art should gain the pre- Nataro nk
eminence of our great and powerful mother, Nature. J^*' *^
We have so surcharged the beauty and richness of
her works by our own inventions, that we have al*
most smothered her. Yet wherever she shines in
her own pure lustre, she wonderfully disgraces our
vain and frivolous attempts;
Et ventunt hederce sponte sua meliusy
Surgit et in solis formoswr arbutus antris^
■ ' ■ .nil I I r » ■ I >
Ei tkJucrei nulla dutcius arte oanunt.*
Best thrives the ivy when no cultute spdb }
Tlie strawb'rry most delight; in shaded soib y
Birds in wild notes their throats Iiannonious stretch
Witli greater art than art itself can teach.
With all our skill, we are not able to frame such a
nest as that of the least of the small birds, neither
for its contexture^ beauty, or convenience ; nor can
we weave such a web as the poor spider does. All
things, says Plato,t are produced eithw by nature,
chance, or art. The largest and the most beautifiil
by one or oilier of die two iSrst, the least and most
imperfect by the last
These nations then seem to me to be so fer barba- J^;"J^^
reus, as very little care has been taken to form their Americaii
minds, and as their native simplicity is stUl ^^»-SI2Sw
t Propert. lib, I eleg^ u. ter. 10, 1 1 ^ 1& t Mato de Legibw, 665,
it4B OF CANNIBALS.
proved. They are still governed by the laws of na-
ture, as yet very little adulterated by ours, but re-
maining in such purity, that I am sometimes sorry
we were not acquainted with the people sooner,
when there were men better able to judge of them
than we are. I am vexed that Lycurgus and Plato
had no knowledge of them : for, in my opinion,
what we see in those nations by experience, not only
surpasses all the pictures which the poets have drawn
of the Golden Age, and all their inventions in repre-
senting the then happy state of mankind, but also
the conception and desire of philosophy itself. Such
a native and pure simplicity as we see in them, could
never enter into their imagination, nor could they
ever believe that society could be maintained with so
little human artifice and cement.
The excel. Should I Say to Plato, it is a nation wherein there
the?? ^^ is no sort of traffic, no knowledge of letters, no sci-
policy, ence of numbers, no title of magistracy, nor of po-
litical superiority ; no use of service, riches, or po-
verty; no contracts, no successions, no dividends,
no occupations, no respect of kindred, but all com-
mon; no clothes, no agriculture, no metal, no use
of wine or corn j and that they never heard the men-
tion of such words as signify lying, treason, dissi-
mulation, avarice, envy, detraction, and pardon, how
far would he find his imaginary republic short of this
perfection ?
Hos naiura modos primum dedit.^
These different ways were first by nature taught.
The nature For the rcst, they live in a very pleasant country,
dii!»u;' and temperate climate, so that, as my authors tell
*°* ■ me, it is rare to see a man sick there, and they as-
sured me they never saw any of the natives either
paralytic, blear-eyed, toothless, or decrepid with age.
The situation of their country is all along by the sea-
V . shore, being shut up on the land-side by great high
* Vin Georg. lib. ii. yer. 20,
OF CANNIBALS. 249
mountains, from which it is a hundred leagued, or
thereabouts, to the sea. Here are fish and flesh in
abundance, that have no resemblance with what
comes to our tables ; and they use no cookery but
plain boiling, broiling, roasting, or baking on the
coals. The first man that ever came to them on
horse-back, though he had made an acquaintance
with them by several voyages, so frightened them by
his appearance of half man and half horse, that they
killed him with their arrows before they could find /
their mistake.
Their buildings, which are very long, and capable Th€ir
of entertaining 200 or 300 people, are made of the^"**'"*^
bark of tall trees, fixed with one end to the ground,
imd leaning to, and supporting, one another at the
top, like some of .our barns, the roof of which de-
scends almost to the ground, and serves instead of
the side walls. They have wood so hard, that they
cleave it and make swords of it, and grills to brou
their meat on.
Their beds, which are of cotton, are hung up to Their bed*.
the roof, like our seamen's hammocks, and hold but
one person, for the wives lie apart from their hus-
bands.
They rise with the sun, and immediately fall to Their
eating, when they make one meal, which sei-ves them JJ^'
for the whole day. They do not then drink (as ^rink, and
Suidas reports of some people of the East, who never {IJI^.
drank at their meals), but they drink several times in
a day, and to a hearty pitch. Their liquor is made
of a certain root, and is of the colour ol claret ; and
they always drink it lukewarm. ' It will not keep
above two or three days, has a brisk savour, is not
at all heady, is very good for the stomach, but proves
laxative to those who are not used to it, though to
those who are it is a very pleasant beverage. Instead
of bread, they make use of a certain white com-
pound, like coriander comfits, which I have tasted,
^nd found to be sweet, but a little flat.
They spend the whole day in dancing. • The young J^ p^
SfiO OF CANNIBALS.
men go out to hunt the wild beasts with bows and
arrows. Part of their women, in the mean time^
are employed in wanning their drink, which is their
chief employment One of their old men in the
morning, before they fall to eating, preaches to the
whole houshold, in common, walking from one end
of the house to the other, several times repeating
the same sentences, till he has gone all round theia*
mily (for their buildings are at least a hundred yards
long), to whom he only recommends two things, va*
lour against their enemies, and love to their wives.
And they never fail to put them in mind how much
they are the more obliged to it, because it is the
women who provide them their drink warm, and well
relished. In several places, and at my house amongst
others, may be seen the form of their beds, swords,
and wooden gauntlets, with which they guard their
wrists in battle, and their canes, hoUow at one end,
by the sound of which they keep time in their danc%
ing. They shave all theu* hairy parts, and much
more nicely than we, without any razor but what is
of wood or stonci
They be. They believe the eternity of the soul's duration,
Immo^Vi. and that those who have deserved well of the gods,
ty of the ^Q lodged in that part of the firmament where the
*"''' sun rises, and the damned in the west
Their They have I know not what kind of priests and
JJ.Jj^'pJJ^*' prophets, who live in the mountains, and are seldom
their mo- sccn bv the people. Whenever they come down to
how^they ^ thcm thcrc is a gre^ festival and a solemn assembly
«retreated,of the pcoplcfrom many villages (or barns, as I have
phelic/*'**' described them, which are about a French league
proTefaiae.from ouc another). The prophet theq speaks to
them in public, exhorting them to virtue and the
performance of. their duty; but their whole system
of morality consists in these two articles, resolution
in war, and affection to their wives. He also fore*
tells to them things to come, and what they must
pxpect will be the event of their enterprises, and he
either persuades them to, or 4issuades theoi frpm^
OF CANNIBALS; QSl
war ; but woe be to him if he does not guess right,
fi>r if it happens to them otherwise than he foretold,
they condemn him for a &ise prophet : and if they
can catch him, cut him in a thousand pieces. For
this reason, if any one finds himself mistaken, he
keeps out of sight. Divination is a gift of God,
therefi>re to abuse it is an imposture that ought to be
punished.
Among the Scythians, when their diviners &iled FaUe pro.
in their predictions, they were bound hand and foot, J*'*^'*^
and laid on a cart loaden with furze, and drawn by scyUiian.
oxen, on which they were burnt to death;* they
who only meddle with things within the sphere of
human capacity, are excusable in doing the best they
can ; but as for those other people that come and
delude us with assurances of an extraordinary faculty
beyond our understanding, ought they not to be
punished for not making good their promise, and for
the temerity of their imposture ?
They have wars with the nations that are beyond Thewmnof
their mountauis, farther within the main land, to^jj^^^^,,^
which they go stark naked, without any weapons but weapom
bows or wooden swords, pointed at the end like thej|^^^
beads of our javelins. Their obstinacy in battle isigbUoK.
wonderful, as they nev^ end without great efiu^on
of blood, for they know not what it is to be fright-
ened and to run away. Every one brings home for
a trophy the head of some enemy that he has killed,
which he sets up over the door of his house.
After having treated their prisoners a good while Tbeyo^
in the handsomest manner they can think of, thel^^'^^"^
person who has the property of them invites a great why. '
number of his acquaintance, and, when they are
pcnne, ties a cord to one of the prisoner's arms, by
one end of which he holds him some paces distance,
that h^ may not hurt him, ax)d gives to the friend he
Joves best, the other arm to held in the same pan*
* HerodaC lib. iv. p^ 879.
852 OF CAKNIBALS.
ner, and then they two, in the presence of the
whole assembly, run him through the body with
their swords. This done, they roast him and eat
him in common, and send some slices of him to their
absent friends. They do not do this, as it is ima-
gined, for the sake of nourishment, as the Scythians
did of old, but to denote the last degree of revenge ;
as will appear by this, that perceiving, that when the
Portuguese had taken any prisoners, they inflicted
another sort of death upon them, which was to set
them in the earth up to the waist, to let fly their
arrows at the upper part, and then to hang them ;
they were of opinion that these people of the other
world (as they had made their neighbours ac-
quainted with a great many vices, and far outstripped
them in all sorts of mischief) had a reason for taking
this sort of revenge, and that it must be more severe
than theirs, and so began to leave their old way, and
to follow this. I am not sorry that we should here
take notice of the barbarous cruelty of such an
action ; but rather that, while we judge so nicely of
their faults, we are so blind to our own. I think
there is more barbarity in eating a man aUve than
when he is dead ; in tearing a body limb from limb,
by racks and torments, while it has the sense of feeU
ing, in roasting it by degrees, in causing it to be bit
and worried by dogs and swine (as we have not only
read, but lately seen, not between veteran enemies,
but between neighbours and fellow^citizens, and
what is worse, under pretence of piety and religion),
than in the roasting and eating it after it is dead.
Chrysippus* and Zeno, the two heads of the stoical
sect, were of opinion that there was no hurt in
making use of our dead bodies to any purpose what*
soever, to serve our occasions, and even for our
nourishment, as our ancestors, when besieged by
Caasar in the city Alexia, resolved to keep themselves
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Chrysippus, l]b.Tu. secU 188,
OP CANNIBALS^ 25$
from being starved to death by the bodied of their
old men, women and other persons, incapable of
bearing arms :
Vasctmes^ fama est^ alimentis ialilnis usi
Produxere animas.*
'Tis said the Gascons with such meats as these.
In time of siege their hunger did appease.
And the physicians scruple not to make use of
human flesh every way, either inwardly or outwardly,
&r our health. But the savages here treated of,
never maintained any opinion so enormous as to ex-
cuse treason, disloyalty, tyranny, and cruelty, which
are our familiar vices : we may therefore style them
barbarous with an eye to the laws of reason, but not
in respect to ourselves, who exceed them in all, kinds
of barbarity.
Their warfare is quite noble and generous, and isTheai.'
as excusable and commendable as that human ^JScti^
malady is capable of being, it having no foundation "»''« «'
with them but the sole jealousy of virtue. They doyer^ uobie
not contend for the conquest of new lands, for those '
they possess still enjoy that natural fertility which
furnishes them, without labour and toil, with such an
abundance of all necessaries, that they have no need
to enlarge their borders.
They are also happy in this circumstance, that Their mo-
they desire no more tnan what the necessities of ***™*^®"'
nature demand, every thing beyond that being to
them superfluous.
Men of the same age generally call one another ivir cor-
brothers; those who are younger, children; and the ^jj^j[j[_ *•
old men are fathers to all. These leave to their other,
heirs, in common, the full possession of their goods
and chattels, without any division, or any other title
than what nature bestows upon her creatures at
bringing thein into the world.
* Jut. sat. xv. ver. 93} 94.
J
254 e^ CAmn^AiM.
All thdt If their neighbours come over the mountaifis to
t^Y\^ioi^ attack theiiH and obtain a victory over them, all that
over tbeir the conqucrors gain by it is glory, and the advantage
J^ of proving their superiority m valour ; for they take
no spoils from the vanquished, but return home to
their owrt country, where they have no want of any
necessaries, nor of that happy knowledge how to
live contentedly in their condition. And these in
their turn do the same. They demand no other
ransom of the prisoners they take, than the confes-
sion and acknowledgment of being vanquished.
But there is not a man of them to be found in a
whole century, who had not rather perish, than
abate an ace of the grandeur of his invincible
courage, either by a look or word. There is not one
who had not rather be killed and eaten, than so
much as open his mouth to desire he miEiy not be so
treated. They indulge them with full liberty, that
their lives may be so much the dearer to them ; yet
commonly accost them with menaces of their ap-
proaching death, of the torments which they are to
suffer, or the preparations making for that purpose,
of the mutilation of their members, and of the feast
that is to be made on their carcasses. And all this
they do for no other purpose, but to extort some
pentle or submissive word from them, or to put it
mto their heads to make their escape, fqr the sake of
gaining the advantage of having terrified them, and
shaken their constancy : and, indeed, if the thing be
rightly considered, it is in this point only that true
victory consists:
'Victoria nulla est.
Quam quad confessos animo quoqne subjugtU hostes.^
No victory's to true and so complete.
As when the vanquish'd own their just defeat.
That warlilje nation, the Hungarians, did not pur-
* Claudian de SexteConsuIatu Honorii Pdnegyris, ver. 248, 249.
OF CANNIBALS. 2SS
sxLe their point formerly beyond reducing the enemy
to beg quarters : for after they had forced them to
this submission, they let them go without injury, or
ransom, or any greater demand upon them, than
their promise not to bear arms against them for the
future. We have several advantages over our ene-
mies that are borrowed, and not our own. To have
stronger arms and legs than another man, is a quali-
fication for a porter, but not for a man of true vdour*
The disposition of soldiers in battle array, is a life-
less corporeal quality; if our enemy stumble, or hi$
eyes are dazzled with the light of the sun, it is owing
to fortune ; and to be a good fencer is a qualification
of art and science, that may be attained by a coward
And a poltroon.
The estimation and value of a man consists in the wbst <»■.
hearty and the will, and therein lies his trae honour j J[iJ^^^*)SJ
valour is the stability, not of legs and arms, but ofof « nu,
courage and the mind. It does not consist in the perioHtr
goodness of our horse, or our armour, but in our* oyer bii
aelves. The man who falls obstinately courageous, c^toi».
Si succiderit de genu pugnat ;* jfJus Jegs fail him,
.jwlLJght upon his knees. He who does not flincKT"
be he in ever such imminent danger of death, and
who, when giving up the ghost, looks his enemy in
the &ce with a stem and £sdainful countenance, is
conquered not by us but by fortune; maya^ he.is„^
J^lgd^notconquered^ the most vaUant being some-
tim^me mosTufifortunate.
There are actually some defeats which may com- Defeatt
gire even with victories for triumph. As for those JJ^^*^
ur sister victories, the most signal which the sun ruoriow
ever beheld, viz. those of Salamis, Platea, Mycale, j^t"^*
and Sicily, they durst not set all their glory united in ▼ictori«.
opposition to that of the defeat of king Leonidas,
and his army, at the pass of Thermopylae. Who
ever ran with a more glorious emulation or ambition
to the winning, than the captain Ischolas did to the
* Senec. de ProvidentiK.
2S6 OF CANNIBALS*
losing, of a battle ? Who ever found out a more in*
genious and curious stratagem for his self-preserva-
tion, than he did for his own destruction ? He was
commissioned to defend a certain pass of the Pelo-
ponnesus against the Arcadians ; but finding it im-
possible for him to do it, upon observation of the na?
ture of the place, and the inequality of his forces to
that of the enemy, and being sure that no man, who
&ced the enemy there, must ever expect to return ;
and on the other hand thinking it would be a re^
f roach to his valour and magnanimity, and to the
^acedaemonian name, to fail in his commission, he
chose a medium between the two extremes, after this
manner.* The youngest and most active of his
soldiers, he reserved for the defence and service of
their country, and sent them home ; and with the
rest, whose loss would not be of so much conse-
quence, he resolved to maintain this pass, and by the
death of them, to make the enemy pay as dear a
purchase as possible for their entry, as it accordin^y
fell out : for being instantly surrounded on all sides
by the Arcadians, after having made a great slaugh-
ter of them, he and his men were all put to the
sword. Is any trophy erected to the victors, which
is not rather aue to the vanquished ? The true way
to victory is by fighting, not by coming off; and the
honour of valour consists in the battle, not in the
defeat.
The COD- To return to my story ; these prisoners are so fer
thoM^i^ from being humbled by any thing done to them,
^«*J^*^* that, on the contrary, during tfie two or three
priMwen. months that they are kept under guard, they appear
with a brisk countenance, urge their keepers to make
haste to bring them to the test ; defy, rail at them,
reproach them with cowardice, and with the number
of battles they have lost.
* See Diodorus of Sicily, lib. xv. cap. 7, where the action of
Jscholas is compared to that of king Leonidaa, which Montaigne
extols above the most celebrated victories.
OF CANimrALS* ft57
1 have a song iqade by one of these prisoners. The mar-
wherein he says, " They shall be welcome to meet^ one'of *the
•* one and all, to dine upon him, and thereby eat '^^^s^ p"-
** their fathers and grandfathers, whose flesh had'^"'"'
** served to feed and nourish him. These muscles,*'
says he, " this flesh, and these veins, they are your
•* own. Poor souls, as you are, you little think that
** the substance of the limbs of your ancestors is
** here still. Do but mind the taste, and you will / .
** perceive the relish of your own flesh.*' This is a
composition that has nothing of the taste of bar*
barism. They who paint him dying after being thus
stabbed, paint' the prisoner spitting in the faces of
his executioners, and making mouths at them ; and
in truth, they never cease to brave and defy them,
both by looks and language, to the very last gasp.
It is certain that these men compared to us are very
savage, for in good faith either they must needs be
such, or else we must, there being a wonderful dif-
ference between their manners and ours.
The men here enjoy a plurality of wives, and the The wit«
more eminent they are for their valour, the greater nfbau/^"
number they have.
There is one very extraordinary thing to be ob- The nature
served in their married state, viz. that as the jealousy ?,^,*^y
of our wives excites them to hinder us from the
friendship and favour of other women, their wives
have the same emulation to procure that happiness
for. their husbands : for being more careful to pro-
mote thie honour of their husbands than of any one
thing besides, they seek out very eagerly for the
most companions they can find for the husband, it
being a testimony of his valour. Our wives will
say this is monstrous ! but it is not so. It is a
virtue truly matrimonial, though of the highest
form. We find in the Bible, that Sarah, the wife of
Abraham, and Jacob's wives Leah and Rachel, fur-
nished their husbands with their beautiful maids ;
Livia &voured the appetites of Augustus to her own
VOL. X. S
SS8 ^F CANKIBALS^
prejudice ; and Stratonice,* the wife of king D^o-
tarus, not only accommodated her husband with the
enjoyment of a handsome young chambermaid in her
service, but carefully brought up the children he had
by her, and heljied them to succeed to their Other's
dominions. And lest it should be thought that all
this is done merely from a servile obUgation to their
customs, and by the impression of the authority of
their ancient practice, without reason or judgment,
and for want of sense to take another course, it is
necessary in this place to give some touches of their
capacity.
Lore songs ticsidcs what I just uow repeated from one of their
ric" tiT*" military songs, I have another, a love-song of theirs,
««e. which begins in this manner, viz. ^ Stay, adder^
** stay, that by thy likeness my sister may draw the
** fasnion and work of a rich ribbon for me to
** make a present of to my sweet-heart, by which
** means thy beauty and thy disposition may at aU
** times give thee the preference before all other ser-
" pents." Wherein the first couplet. Stay, adder,
&c. makes the burden of the song. Now 1 am c<m-
versant enough with poetry to judge thus much,
that not only there is nothing barbarous in this
thought, but that it is perfectly Anacreontic.
Tfc«ia^ Their language moreover is soft, and of a pleasing
SHrSTvago. accent, resembUngthe terminations of the Greek.
What some Thrcc of thcsc pcoplc forcsccing how dear the
v^ ^nmho ^"^wledge of the corruption of this part of the
^e'to ^ world would one day cost their happiness and repose,
Sr^Vof ^^^ ^^**' ^^^ correspondence would in the end prove
their ruin, as I suppose it to be^ready in a fairway
of doing so (wretched men I to sufier themselves to
* See Platarch in his Treatise of the Virtuous Deeds of Woolen^
in the Article £r^«rwMs. The last English translation by Mr.
Cotton, is guilty of a small blunder here, by niakine the name
Stratonice, for that of a country. Galatia, says Plutardi, also pro-
duced Stratonice the wife of Deiotarus, &c. Tome xxxi. p. 259^
the Paris edition in 1624>.
OF CANNIBALS. 259
be deluded with the desire of novelty, and to leave
their own serene sky, to come and gaze at ouis), were
at Roan when the late king Charles IX. was there.
The monarch himself talked to them a good while^
and they were made to see our fashions, our pomp,
and the form of a fine city ; after which somebody
asked their opinion, and wanted to know of them
what things they most admired of all they had seen ?
To which they made answer, three things, of which
I am sorry I have forgot the third, but two I yet re-
member. They said, in the first place, they thought
it very strange that so many tall men, wearing great
beards, strong and well armed, about the king's per-
son (by w^hom, it is like, they meant his Swiss
guards), should submit to obey a child, and that they
did not rather choose out one among themselves tQ
command. Secondly, that they had taken notice of
men amongst us who were fat, and crammed with all
manner of good things, whilst their halves* were
begging at the gates, lean and half-starved with
hunger and poverty ; and they wondered how these
necessitous halves could put up with such unjust treat-
ment, and not take the others by the throat, or set
fire to their houses.
I talked with one of them a good while, but I had amww ot
so sorry an interpreter, who was so perplexed by hisuva^ tt
stupidity to apprehend my meaning, that I could Montaigne,
get nothing of any moment out of him. Asking of
what advantage his superiority over the people was
to him (for he was a captain, and our mariners
styled him king), he told me " to march at the head
*' of them to war :" and demanding further of him .
how many men he had to follow him ? he showed
me a space of ground, to signify as many as could
stand in such a compass, which might be four or
five thousand men : then putting the question to
Jiim, whether or no his authority expired with the
* It is an idiom in their language to call men the half of one an-
other.
S2
2€0 XtTDGTE ffOBERlT
war ? he told me, " this part of it remained ; that
•* when he went to visit the villages of his depend-
** ence, they made paths for him through their thick-
' •* est woods, so that he could pass from one place
** to another with ease/* Upon the whole, this was
not a bad thing. If you ask why ? I answer, be- -^
cause they wear no breeches^ ^ . . . >J
CHAPTER XXXL
That a Man must not be too hasty in judging of
Divine Ordinances.
The sab- X HIN6S unknowii are the true field and sulgect
•J^*JJ^"^of impoffture^ forasmuch as in the fost place ticir
very strangeness ^ves them credit, and moreover,
by not being subjected to our orcUnary discourse^
they deprive us of the means to dispute them. For
which reason, says Plato, it is much more easy to
satisfy the hearers, when speaking of the nature of
the gods, than €i the nature of men, because the ig-
norance of the auditory affords a fair and large career,
and all maimer of libc^y, in the handling of abstruse
thinffs ; thence it comes to pass, that nothing is so
firmhr believed as what we least know: nor any
people so confident as those who entertain, us wiw
rabies, such as alchymists, judicial astrologers, for-
tune-tellei^, phy^cians, and Id genus omnc; to
whom I could willingly, if I durst, join a daas of
people, who take iu>oa them to interpret and cri^
ticise tJie designs* of God himself, pretending to find
out the cause of every acqident, and to pry into the
secrets of the divine will, and the incompi^ehen^ble
motives of his works** And altiiough the vari^y,
* People who Dretend to give the most precise determination of
the designs of God, the duration, effictfcy^ and extent of his fii-
▼oursy &c*
OF DITIKE ORDINilNCES. S61
and the continual dit^cMrdance, of events, throw them
from comer to comer, and from east to west, yet -do
they still {Persist in their vain inquisition, and with
the same pencil paint black and white. In a nation
of the Indies, there is this commendable, custom,
that when any thing be&Us them amiss in any ren*
counter or battle, they publicly ask pardon of the
sun, who is their God, as if they had committed an
unjust action, alwa3rs imputing their good or evil for-
tune to the divine justice, and to that submitting
their own judgment and reason.
It is enough for a Christian to believe that allNoavtho.
things come from God, to receive them with acknow- ^^^^ ^
ledgmentof his divine and unsearchable wisdom, andtbe cbrif.
also to accept them in good part, with what face so-*\^SjJi
ever they may present themselves ; but I do not ap-c^entii-
prove of what 1 see in use, that is, to seek to esta^
blish and support our religion by the prosperity of
our enterprises. Our belief has other foundations
enough, without authorising it by events ; for peo* '
pie accustomed to such plausible arguments as these,
and so peculiar to their own taste, it is to be feared,
lest when they fail of success, they should also stag*
ger in their mth : as in the war wherein we are now
engaged upon account of religion, those who had
the better m the affeir of Rochelabeille,* rejoicing
at that success, and boasting it as.an in&Uible i^ppro*
bationof their cause, when they came aflerwanis to
excuse their misfortunes at Jaraac and Monoontour,t
it was by saying they were fatherly scourges and
corrections ; if they Imve not a people wholly at their ^
mercy, they make it obvious enough to them, that i^
is to take two sorts of grist out of the same sack, >
and with the same mouth to blew hot and cold. It
* A great skirmkh that had like to have caused a general battle
between the troops of the admiral de Coligny and those of the duke
of Anjou, in May, 1569.
f These battles were ivon .by the 4uk^ oi Anjou, \he Sjrst in
March, and the last in October, l$69f
262 JUDGE SOBERLY OF DIVINE ORDINANCES.
were better to support a cause with the real founda-
tions of truth,
A naval It was a bfavc naval battle that was gained, a few
JailTeldover Hiouths siucc, against the Turks,* under the com-
the Turks, maud of Don John of Austria ; but it has also pleased
God at other times, to let us see as great victories at
our own expense. In fine, it is a hard matter to
reduce divine things to our balance, without losing
a great deal of the weight. And he that would take
upon him to give a reason, why Arius, and his Pope
Leo, the principal heads of the Arian heresy, shoidd
die at different times, in a way so much alike and so
strange (for being withdrawn from the disputation,
by the griping in the guts, they both of them sud-
denly gave up the ghost upon the stool), and would
aggravate this divine vengeance by the circumstance
of the place ; might as well add the death of Helio-
gabalus, who was also slain in a house of ofIice.t
But what ? Irenaeus was involved in the same fortune.
ThefMd God being pleased to show us, that the good have
^^IJJJ^ something else to hope for, and the wicked some*
no proof ei- thing else to fear, than the fortunes or misfortunes
merit Of dil of the world, he manages and applies them, accord-
merit. Jng to his owu sccrct will, and deprives us of the
means, foolishly to make our own profit. And those
people deceive themselves, who pretend to do it by
numan reason. They never give one hit that they
do not receive two for it ; of which St. Augustin
gives a very great proof on his adversaries. It is a
conflict that is more decided by strength of memory
than the force of reason. We are to content our-
selves with the light it pleases the sun to commu-
nicate to us, by virtue of his rays, and he that will
lifl up his eyes to take in a greater, let him not think
it strange if, for the punishment of his presumption,
he thereby lose his sight, Quis hominum potest scire
* In 1571.
f In Latrind adquam confiigeratf occisus* S\xl Lampridii He*
|iogabalu8, p. 107.
TO AVOID PLEASURES. 263
consilium Dei? Aut quis poterit cogitate^ quidvelit
Ddminus? " Who amongst men can know the
*^ counsel of God ? Or who can think what the will
^ of the Lord is?"
CHAPTER XXXIL
To avoid Pleasures^ even at the Expense of Life.
1 HAD long ago observed most of the opinions oif
the ancients to concur in this, that it is high time to
die when there is more ill than good in living ; and
that to preserve life to our own torment and inconve-^
nience, is repugnant to tbp very laws of nature, aa
these old rules instruct us :
ILotXov ivr^cxuv olq uC^i» to ^v ftfih
Kf ntro-ov to jliij ^v ir\vf n ^v iixTa^.
Adieu ! want, care, with misery's various train.
Death then is happy, when to live is pain.
But to push this contempt of death so far as to em«
ploy it to the drawing off our thoughts from the ho*
nours, riches, dignities, and other favours and goods,
as we call them, of fortune, as if reason were not suf-
ficient to persuade us to avoid them, without this ad-
ditional injunction, I had never seen it either com-
manded or practised, till this passage of Seneca fell
into my hands; who advising Lucilius, a man of
great power and authority about the emperor, to
alter his voluptuous and magnificent way of living,
and to withdraw himself from this worldly ambition,
to some solitary, quiet, and philosophical life, and
the other alleging some difficulties; " I am of opi-
** nion (says Cicero, ep. 32), either that thou leave
•* that life, or life itself. I would, indeed, advise
^ thee to die more gentle way, and to untie, rather
2^4f TO AVOID FL£ASUB£S.
^ tiian to break, the Icaot thou hast indi&creetly knit,
** provided, that if it be not otherwise to be untied,
^' thou break it. There is no man so great a coward,
^^ that had not rather fall at once, than to be always
" falling." I should have thought this counsel suit-
able enough to the stoical roughness ; but it appears
the more strange, for being borrowed from Epicurus,
who. writes the same, upon the like occasion, to Ido-
mencus. Yet I ithink Ihave observed something like
' it, but with the Christian moderation, amongst our
owfL people. St. Hilary, bishop of Poictiers, that
famous enemy of the Arian heresy, being in Syria,
had intelligence that Abra, his only daughter, whom
be left at home with her mother, was sought in mar-
riage by the gayest noblemen of the country, as be-
iag a virgin lortuousLy brought up, beautifiil, rich,
and, in the flower, of her Age c whereupon he writ to
her (as it appears upon record)^ that she should re*
move her affection from all those pleasures and ad-
vantages that were proposed to her ; for he had in
his travels found out a much greater and more worthy
match for her, a husba.nd of much greater power and
magnificence, that would present her with robes, and
jewels of inestimable value ; his design in this was,
to dispossesa her of the af^tite and use of worldly
delights, and to join her wholly to God ; but the
nearest and most certain way to this, being, as ha
conceived, the death of his daughter; he never
ceased, by vows, prayers, and oraisons, to beg oi
God to ^all her out of this world, and take her to
himself, as accordingly it came to pass; for soon
after his return she died, at which he expressed a
sHflgidar joy. This seems to outdo the other, foras*
miich as he applies himself at first sight, to tlds me-
thod which they only take secondarily ; and, besides,
ii was towards his only daughter. But I will not
on^it the latter end of this story, though it be not to
my purpose: St. Hilary'^ wife having understood
from him how the death of their daughter was
brought about by bis desire aqd design, and bow
JPORTUXE OFTENTIMES RATIONAL. 265
muab happier she was^ to be removed out of this
world, than to have stayed in it, conceived so lively
an ap^H'ehension of the eternal and heavenly beati-
tude, that she begged of her husband, with the ex«
•tremest importunity, to do as much for her ; and .
God, at their joint request, calling her to him shortly
after, it was a death embraced on both sides ¥rith
fiingular content.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Fortune is often met with in the Train of Reason.
OUCH is the inconstancy of the various biasses of
fortune, that she cannot avoid appearing to us with
all sorts of faces. Can there be a more express act
of justice than this? The duke of Valentenqis*
having resolved, in 1503, to poison Adrian, cardinal
of Cometto, with whom pope Alexander the Sixth,
his father, and himself, were to sup at his house in
the Vatican, he sent before a bottle of poisoned
wine, apd withal strict order to the butler to keep
it very safe. The pope being come before his son,
and calling for a whet, the butler, supposing this wine
was so stnctly recommended to his care only upon
account of its excellence, served a glass of it to the
pope, and the duke himself coming in presently a&
ter, and believing his bottle had not been touched,
took also his glass ; so that the father died immedi-
ately upon the place, and the son, after having been
long tormented with sickness, was reserved to an*
otltier and a worse fortune.
• History of Francis Guiccardin, lib. vi. p. 267, printed at Ve-
nice, by Gabriel GioUto, m 1568.
266 FORTUNE OFTENTIMES RATIONAL*
portHM Sometimes she seems to play upon us, just in the
Mwnsiorae. j^j^j^ of time. MonsicuF d*Estree, at that time
»port with guidon to Monsieur de Vendosme ; and Monsieur de
"* Liques, lieutenant to the company of the duke of
Arscot, being both suitors to the Sieur de Founge-
selles's sister, though of different parties (as it oft
falls out among frontier neighbours), the Sieur de
Liques carried her; but on the very day he was
married, and which was worse, before he went to
bed to his wife, the bridegroom, having a mind to
break a lance in honour of his new bride, went out
to skirmish, near to St, Omers, where the Sieur
d'Estree proving the stronger, took him prisoner,
and to render his victory the more brilliant, the lady
herself was fain
CConjugis ante coacia novi dimittere collumj
Quam veniens una^ atque altera rursus hyemsy
rTocttbus in langis avidum saturasset amorem.*
Off her fair amis, the am'rous ring to break.
Which clung so fast to her new spouse's neck.
Ere of two winters many a friendly night
Had sated their love's greedy appetite.
to request the favour of him, to deliver up his pri-
soner to her, as he accordingly did, the gentlemen
of France never denying any thing to tne ladies.
Does not fortune seem to be an artist here ? Con-
stantine, the son of Hellen, founded the empire of
Constantinople, and some ages after, Constantine,
the son of Hellen, put an end to it. Sometimes she
is pleased to emulate our miracles. We are told,
that king Clovis besieging Angoulesme, the walk,
by the divine favour, fell down of themselves. And
Bouchet has it from some author, that king Robert
having sat down before a city, and afterwards stolen
away from the siege to keep the feast of St Aig-
nan, at Orleans ; as he was in devotion, at a certainr
part of the mass, the walls of the beleagured city,
* Catullus ad Manl. ver. 81, &c.
PORTUNE OFTENTIMES RATIONAL. 267
without any effort irade against them, on a sudden
tumbled down. But she did quite contrary in our
Milan war ; for captain Reuse laying siege to the
city Verona, and having carried a mine under a
great part of the wall, it was lifted from its base, by
the springing of the mine, but dropt down again,
nevertheless, whole and entire, and so exactly upon
its foundation, that the besieged suffered no incon-
venience by it.
Sometimes she plays the physician. Jason Phereus, Fortene
being given over by the physicians, by reason of anJJ[^JJJ^
imposthume in his breast, and having a mind to rid tor.
himself of it by death, rushed desperately into the
thickest ranks of the enemy, where he was for-
innately wounded quite through the body, so that
the imposthume broke, and he was cured.*
Did she not also' excel the painter Protogenes insomcUmw
the knowledge of his art ? This man finished the^orTiS!
picture of a dog quite tired, and out of breath, in
all the other parts excellently well to his own liking,
but not being able to express, as he would, the .: . .
slaver and foam of his mouth, he was so vexed
with his work, that be took a spunge, which, by
cleaning his pencils, had imbibed a variety of
colours, and threw it in a rage against the picture,
with an intent utterly to deface it ; when fortune
guiding the spunge to hit just upon the mouth of
the dog, it there performed what art could not at-
tain to.t
Does she not sometimes direct our counsels, andAod!
correct them ? Isabel, queen of England, being to^^^^u
return from Zealand to her own kingdom in l326,oarcoiiii,
with an army in fevour of her son, against her hus^'*'**
band, had been lost had she come into the port she
* Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vii. cap. 50. Valerius Maximus who men-
tions this accident, lib. i. cap. 9, in Externis, represents the fact in
a manner still more miraculous, for he says, that Jason received this
important service from an assassin. Seneca ascribes this accident to
|he same cause. De Benef. lib. ii. cap. 19.
f Plin. ^at Hist. lib. xxxv. cap. 10.
968 FORTUNE OFTENTIMES RATIONAL.
intended, being there laid wait for by the enemy ;
but fortune, against her will, threw her into another
haven, where she landed in safety. And he of old,
who, throwing a stone at a dog, hit and killed lus
mother-in-law ; had he not reason to pronounce this
verse :
— — By this you see.
Fortune takes surer aim than vte.
gtiff.9^r<' Icetest had tampered with two soldiers to kill
»•««• *• Timoleon, at Adrano in Sicily. They took their
wlTp^"" time to do it, when he was performing a sacrifice ;
*«««* when thrusting into the crowd, as they were making-
signs to one another, that now was a fit time for
their business, in steps a third, who, with a sword
struck one of them violently over the pate, and
laying him dead upon the place, runs away. His
companion concludmg himself discovered and un-
done, ran to the altar, and begged for protection,
promising to discover the whole truth. And while
he was laying open the whole conspiracy, behold a
third man, who, being apprehended, was, as a mur-
derer, pulled and haled by the people through
the crowd, towards Timoleon, and other the most
eminent persons of the assembly, to whom he cried
for pardon, pleading that he had justly slain his
father's murderer ; and proving upon the spot, by
sufficient witnesses, which his good fortune very op-
portunelv supplied him withal, that his father was
really killed in the city of the Leontines by that
very man on whom he liad taken his revenge, he was
rewarded ten Attic minae,? for having had the good
fortune, while be was taking satisfaction for the
death of his father, to preserve the life of the com-
* Menander.
f He was a Sicilian, born at Syracuse^ that aimed ta oppress the
liberty of his countnT* of n'hich fimoleon was the protector. Flu**
tarch in die Life of Timoleon, chap. 7«
% The old Attic mina wai 6eventy-five drachau*
OF ONE DEFECT IN OUR GOVERNMENT. 269
mon fether of the Sicilians. Thus fortune, in her
conduct, surpasses all the rules of common pru-
dence.
To conclude, is there not a direct application of ][2J[ ^^^
her favour, bounty, and piety, manifestly discovered ^06cHbc4
in this action ? Ignatius,* the father, and Ignatius, ^ie^r^bj
the son, being proscribed by the Triumviri of Rome,aipeciia
resolved upon this generous act of mutual kindness^ fort«!^
to fall by the hands of one another, and by that
means to finstrate the cruelly of the tyrants. Ac-
cordingly, with their swords drawn, they rushed one
upon another, where fortune so guided the points^
that they gave two wounds equally mortal, affording
withal so much honour to so brave a friendship, as to
leave them just strength enough to draw out of
their wounds their bloody weapons, that they might
have liberty to clasp one anotner in this condition
with so close an embrace, that the executioners cut
off both their heads at once, leaving the bodies fast
linked together in this noble knot, and their wounds
close to each other, affectionately sucking in the
blood and the remainder of one another's lives.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Of one Defect in our Government.
jS/lY deceased father, who, for a man that had no The atiuty
other advantages than experience only, and his ownj^t^nui,
natural parts, was nevertneless of a very clear judg-«fflc««f »•>"
ment, has formerly told me that he once had^"*^^*
thoughts of endeavouring to introduce this practice ;
that there might be in every city a certain place as-
signed, to which such as stood in need of any thing
might repair, and have their business entered by an
* Appian Alexand. de Bellia Civilibus, lib. iv. p. 969.
S70 OF Ol^E DEFECT IN OUR GOVERNMENT.
officer appointed for that purpose ; as for example^ t
want to sell, or to buy, pearls : such a one wants
company to go to Paris : such a one inquires for a
servant of such a quality : such a one for a master :
such a one inquires for an artificer : some for one
thing, some for another, every one according to
what he wants. And, I fancy, these mutual adver-
tisements would be of no contemptible advantage to
the public correspondence and intelligence : for
there are always people that hunt after one another,
and, for want of knowing one another's occasions,
men are left in very great necessity.
The miser- I hear, to the great shame of the age we live in,
JciJjJfjuJthat in our very sight two most excellent men, for
«nd Ca». learning, died so poor, that they had scarce bread to
put in their mouths, Lilius Gregorius Giraldus in
Italy, and Sebastianus Castalio in Germany : and I
do believe, there are a thousand men would have
invited them into their families, with very advan-
tageous conditions, or have relieved them where
they were, had they known their wants. The world
is not so generally corrupted, but that I know a
man that would heartily wish the estate his ancestors
have lefl him, might be employed, so long as it shall
please fortune to let him possess it, to shelter re-
markable persons of any kind, whom misfortune
sometimes persecutes to the last degree, from the
danger of necessitv ; and at least place them in such
a condition, that they must be very hard to please if
they were not contented.
*j*^jy My father, in his economical government, had
reifuUitionithis ordcr (which I know how to commend, but by
by^Mo^ no means to imitate), which was, that besides the
tai^e*a fa- register he kept of the houshold affairs, where the
^^' small accounts, payments, and contracts, which do
not require a secretary's hand, were entered, and
which his bailiff always had in custody ; he ordered
him, whom he kept to write for him, to keep a paper
journal, and in it to set down all the remarkable oc-
currences, and daily memoirs of his fiimily affidrs ;
Op the custom of wearing clothes. ^ 271
Very pleasant to look over when time begins to wear
things out of memory, and very useful sometimes to
put us out of doubt, when such a thing was begun,
when ended, what visitors came, with what atten-
dants, and how long they staid ; our voyages, ab-
sences, marriages, deaths, reception of good or ill
news J the change of princip^ servants, and the
like. An ancient custom, which I think it would
not be amiss for every one to revive in his own
femily J and I find I did very foolishly in neglecting
the same.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Of the Custom of wearing Clothes*
\t HATEVER I shall say upon this subject, 1 am what p^
of necessity to force a barrier of custom, so carefiil]^jj|^j^^
has she been to shut up all the avenues. I was dis-some m.
Jputing with mpelf, in this cold season, whether the|J^"****
custom of going naked, in those nations lately dis-n^ked.
covered, is owing to the hot temperature of their
air, as we say of the Moors and Indians, or whether
it was the original custom of mankind : men of un-
derstanding, forasmuch as all things under the sun,
as the holy writ declares, are subject to the same
laws, were wont, in such consideratiotii^ as these,
where we are to distinguish the natural laws from
those of human invention, to have recourse to the
general polity of the world, where there could be
nothing counterfeited. Now all other creatures
being sufficiently furnished with necessaries for their
existence, it is not to be imagined, that we only
should be brought into the world, in a defective and
indigent condition, and in a state that cannot subsist
without foreign assistance ; and therefore I believe,
that as plants, trees, animals, and all things that have
272 OF THE CUSTOM
life, are by nature sufficiently covered, to defend
tiiem from the injuries of weather,
Propteredque fere res omnes, aid corio sunt,
Aut seidy out conchiSf out callo, out cartice tectce.*
And therefore shells, or rinds, or fihns inclose^
Or skin, or hair, on ev'ry body grows.
SO were we : but as those who by artificial light put
out that of the day, so we by borrowed forms have
destroyed, our own. And it is plain, that it is cus*
torn which renders that impossible to us, which other-
wise is not so ; for of those nations who have no no-
tion of clothing, some are situated under the same
temperate climate that we are, and some in much
severer climates. And, besides, our most tender
parts are always exposed to the air, as the eyes,
mouth, nose, and ears ; and our peasants, like our
ancestors in former times, go open-breasted to the
waist.* Had we been bom with a necessity of wear-
ing petticoats and breeches, there is no doubt but
nature would have fortified those parts she intended
should be exposed to the fury of tne seasons, witii a
thicker skin, as she has done the fingers* ends, and
the soles of the feet And why should this seem
hard to believe ? I observe much greater difference
between my habit and that of one of our country
boors, than between his and a man that has no other
covering, but his skin. How many men, especially
in Turkey, go naked upon the account of devotimi?
I know not who it was that asked a beggar, whom
he saw in his shirt in the depth of winter, as brisk as
another muffled up to the ears in fiirs, how he could
endure to go so. " Why, Sir,** said he, **you go
" with your face bare, but I am all face.** The Ita-
lians, I think, have a story of the duke of Florence*8
fbpl, whom his master askmg, ^' How, being so thin
^^ clad, he was able to support the cold, which he
* Lucret lib, iv. ver. QSS, 934.
1
OF WEARIKC CLOTHES. S75
•* himself was so guarded against ?" " Why," re-
pKed the fool^ " use my receipt, to put on all the
^' clothes you have at once as I do, and you will feel
^^ no more cold than I."* King Massinissa, to an
extreme old age, could never be prevailed upon to
go with his hecid covered, how cold, stormy, or rainy
soever the weather might be ; which also is reported
of the emperor Severus. Herodotus tells us,t that
in the battles fought between the Egyptians and the
Persians, it was observed, both by himself and others,
that of those who were left dead upon the place, the
heads of the Egyptians were found to be without
comparison harder than those of the Persians, by
season that the last had gone with their heads always
covered from their infancy, first, with biggins, and
then with tiu-bans, and the others were always shaved
and bare. And king Agesilaus, to a decrepid age^
took care to wear always the same clothes in winter
that he did in summer. CsBsar, says Suetonius,1:
marched always at the head of his army for the
most part on foot, with his head bare, whether it
was rain or sun-shine ; and as much is said of Han-
nibal :
■ ■ ' Turn vertice nudoy
Excipere insanos imbres, ccelique ruinam.^
Exposing his bare head to furious show'rs.
While hail or rain in torrents on it pours.
A Venetian, who has long lived in Pegu, and is
lately returned from thence, writes, that the men
and women of that kingdom, though they cover all
their other parts, go sdways bare-foot, and ride so
top. And rlato very eaniestly advises, for the
health of the whole body, to give the head and the
feet no other covering than what nature has bestowed.
He whom the Poles have elected for their king (since
ours came thence), who is, indeed, one of the great^
* Cicero of Old Age^ cap^ x. f Lib. iii. p. 186, 1S7«
^ Sueton. Jul. Cssar^ sect. 58k § Silius It. lib. L ver. 250» 251.
VOL, If T
2?4 OF tHE CUSTOTI
. est princes of this age, never wears any gloves, and
be it in winter, or whatever weather, never weafs
any other cap abroad than what he wears at home.
Whereas I cannot endure to go unbuttoned, or un-
tied ; my neighbouring labourers would think them-
selves in fetters if they were so braced« Varro is of
opinion, that when it was ordained we should have
; our heads uncovered in the presence of the gods, or
the magistrate,* it was rather so ordered upon the
score of health, and to iniire us to the injuries of
weather, than upon the account of reverence. And
since we are now treating of cold, and of Frenchmen
being used to wear variety of colours (notr I myself,
for I seldom wear other tnan black, or white, in imi-
tation of my father), let us add another story of cap-
tain Martin du Bellay, who affirms that, in his Lux-
embourg journey, he saw so sharp frosts, that the
ammunition wine was cut with hatchets and wedges,
delivered out to the soldiers by weight,t and that
they carried it away in baskets ; and Ovid says,
Nttdaque consistuvt formam servantia testae
Vinoy nee hausia meri, sed data frusta bibunt.X
— — Tlie wine,
Dug from its cask, retaitis the figure still.
Nor do they draughts, but crusts of Bacchus swiO.
At the mouth of the lake Moeotis, the frosts are so
very sharp, that on the same spot where the lieute-
nant of mithridates had fought the enemv dry-foot,
and given them a defeat, the summer ^Uowing he
also obtained over them a naval victory.
The Romans fought at a great disadvantage, in the
engagement they had with the Carthaginians near
* Plin. Nat« Hist. lib. xxviii^ cap* 6.
f Philip de Comines, speaking of such cold weather in his time
" (1469) in the principality of Liege, says, that the wine was in lite
manner in their pipes, and that it was dug out, and cut into the fonn
of wedges, and so carried off by gentlemen in huts or baskets, lib. ii«
cap. ll*.
, . t Ovid Trist. lib/ iii* eL 10, ver* 23> 24r
OP WfiARlKb ClOTEtfiS. 275
Hacentia,* by reason that they went on to charge
with their blood chilled, and their limbs benumbed
with cold ; whereas Hannibal had caused great fires
to be dispersed quite through the camp^ to warm his
soldiers ; and oil to be distributed amongst them, to
the end that, anointing themselves, they might ren-
der their nerves more supple and active, and fortify
the pores against the piercing air and freezing wind,
that raged in that season.
The retreat the Greeks made from Babylon into Terrible
their own country, is fitmons for the difficulties and ^^r^y
calamities they had to overcome. Of which this was snow in the
one: that bemg encountered in the mountains ofJI'f^"Jii^^^^^^
Armenia with a horrible storm of snow, they lost all
knowledge of the country, and of the roads, and,
being shut up, were a day and a night without eating
and drinking, during which most of their cattle died,
many of themselves were starved, several struck blind
with the driving of the hail and the flittering of the
snow, many of them maimed in their fingers and toes,
and many rendered stiff and motionless with the ex-
tremity Of the cold, who had yet their understanding
entire.
Alexander saw a nation where they bury the fruit- rnUJtren
trees in winter, to defend them from the frost, and JUe' j;^ J,",.
we also may see the same.
But concerning clothes, the king of Mexico now often
changed his clothed four times a day, and never put ^lexk"^ ^^
them on more, employing those he left off in hiscMn^nihu
continual liberalities and rewards; as also, neither 5'^^^'* '■ *
pot, dish, nor other utensil of his kitchen, or table,
was ever served in twice.
* Tit Liv. lib. xxl cap. 54, 55.
tH
sn . or CATC ^aa toxnroEiu
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Of Cato the Younger.
1 AM ndt gu3ty of the common error oif juc]giitg
another by mysw. I easify admit the difi^ences^
among mitnkind. And thouffh I find my^lf engaged
to one form^ I do not oDiige mankind to it as
many do ; bnt believe and apprehend a thousand op-
posite itiodes of living, and, contrary to moist men,
more easily admit of diffi^renoes than uniformly
amongst usk I, as frankly as anv would have me,
discharge another being from my humours add prin*
dples,4md consider him according to his own modeL
Though I am not continent myself, I nevertheless
sincerely approve the continency of the Capuchins,
and other religious orders, smd am pleased with their
way of living. I fancy that I should like to be in
their place, and love and honour them the more for
being what I am not.^ I desire, in particular, that we
may be censured every man by himself, and ^oiild
not be drawn into the consequence of common ex-
amples* My weakness does nothing alter the esteem.
I ought to have of the force and vigour of those who
deserve it. Sunt qui nihil madent^ quam quod se
imitari posse confidunt :• ** There are some who per-
" suade nothing but what they believe they can mu-
** tate themselves." Crawling as I am upon the slim^
of the earth, I do riot, for all that, cease to observe, up
in the clouds, the inimita^ble height of some heroic
souls ; it is a great deal for me to have my judgment
regular, if the effects cannot be so, and to maintain
this sovereign part, at least, free from corruption :
it is something to have my will good when my legs
fail me. This age wherein we live, in our part of
the world at least, is grown so stupid, that not only
* Cicero de Or. ad Brutuxni cap. 7r
OF CATO THE YOUKOEX. ^ STT
the exercise, but the very notion of virtue is defec-
tive, and seems to be only college jargon :
^ — Firtutem verba putant, ui
Lttcwm lignaJ^
Words finely couchM these men fbr virtue take ;
As if each wood a sacred grore could make.
Quam vereri deberentjf etiam si percipere non pos^
sent :X " Which they ought to reverence, though
^^ they cannot comprehend it." It is a mere gew-gaw
to hang in a cabinet, or at the end of the tongue, a^
on the tip of the ear, for ornament only. .
Th^re are now no virtuous actions, and such as vidoiM
carry a show of virtue have yet nothing of its essence; "ro ^Si***
by reason that profit, glory, fear, custom, and other m^occ of
such foreign causes, are generally incentives to them. ^^^"^
The same may be said of justice, valour, and cour*
tesy, in respect to others, and according to the face
they appear with to the public. The practice of
them is by no means virtue, because there is another ^ .
end proposed, smother moving cause. Virtue owns
nothmg to be hers, but what is done by herself, and
jGbr herself alone.
In that great battle of Potid8sa,§ where thewbythe
Greeks, under Pausanias, defeated Mardonius and^^JU^^J^
the Persians, the conquerors, according to their cus- reward of
torn, coming to divide amongst them the glory oTJ^^^J^^
the exploit, they attributed to the Spartan nation the who stgna.
pre-eminence of valour in this engagement ThelJ^f^^olT^^
Spartans, who were great judges of virtue, when»»tii«.
they came to determine to what particular man of
their nation the honour was due, of having behaved
himself best upon this occasion, found that Aristo-
» Horace, ep. 6, lib. i. rer. SI, 32.
f Montaigne applies to virtue what Cicero here says of phiIo«
aophy, and of thote who presume to find fault with it.
X Cicero Tusc QuaesL lib. v. cap. 2.
. § Montaigne has here put Potidiaea for Plataea. Cornelius Nepos,
in the Life of Pausaniasi cap. L ^ Hujus est iUustrissimam proe-
« lium apud Platseas.^'
Its ,0F CATO THE YOUNGER.
dcmus* had of dll others hazarded his- person with
the greatest bravery. They did not, however, allow
him any prize, because he had been incited by a de«
sire to clear his reputation from the reproach it had
incurred in the action at Thermopylae.
Many peo- Our judgmcuts are sick, and conformable to the
!iiVri!l-1««e'' corruption of our manners. I observe . most of the
*»»^n«hi«t wits of these times pretend to shine by obscuring the
aocienu! * glory of the brave and generous actions of former
ages, putting some vile construction upon them, and
forging vain causes and motives of them. A mighty
subtlety indeed ! Show me the greatest and most
unblemished action in life, and I will invent fifty bad
ends to obscure it ; God knows, whose intention will
extend them out to the full, what diversity of images
our internal wills are liable to ; they do not censure
so much from a spirit of malice, as from ignorance.
Mnntaipie The Same pains and license that others take to de-
^ntroryf tract from these illustrious names, I would willingly
«»^ ^^y- take to raise them higher. As for those rare figures
that are culled out by the consent of the wisest men,
for an example to the world, I should not stick to
honour them more, as far as my invention would
permit, by the circumstances of favourable construc-
tion. And we are to believe that the force of our
invention is infinitely short of their merit. It is the
duty of good men to paint virtue as beautiful as pos-
sible; and there would be no indecency in the case,
should our passion a little transport us in favour of
such sacred forms. What these people do to the
contrary, they either do out of malice, or by the
vice of confining their belief to their own capaci^,
as aforesaid, or which I am more inclined to think,
. for not having their sight strong, clear, and elevated
varioni cnough, to couccive the splendour of virtue in her
X'S'^^.^tive purity; as Plutarch complains, that in his
of the time some attributed the cause df the younger Cato's
^^r*^ death to his fear of Cassar, at which he seems very
* Herodot, lib. ix. p. 614,
OP CATO THE YOUNGER. 279'
angry, and with good reason ; and by that a man'
may guess how much more he would have been o&
fend^ with those who have attributed it to ambi^
tion ; silly people ! he would have performed a hand-
some, just, and generous action, though he had ig-
nominy for his reward, rather than glory. That man
was, in truth, a pattern, whom nature chose out to
show to what height human virtue and constancy
could arrive.
But I am not capable of handling so noble an ar- choice pas.
gument ; I will therefore onlv enter five Latin poets ^^'^w^^^l^**^
in the lists, contending in the praise of Cato^ andinprai«eof
inclusively for their own too. Now a man, well read ^J^ ^
in poetry, will think the first two, in comparison of ««««««»«»
the others, languishing; the third more vigorous, ^i^e!"'
but overthrown by the extravagancy of his own force.
He will then thinks that there will be yet room for
one or two gradations of invention to come to the
fourth ; and coming to mount the pitch of that, he
will lift up his hand in admiration. At the last, the
first by some space (but a space that he will swear is
not to be filled up by any human wit), he will be as-
tonished, he will not know where he is.
It is very surprising that we have more poets than^.EioriiPot
judges and interpreters of poetry. It is easier to J^^'J^
write a poem than to understand one. Tliere is, in-
deed, a certain low poetry, that a man may judge by
precepts and art ; but the true, supreme, and divine
poesy is above all rules and reason. And whoever
discerns the beauty of it, with a strong and steady
sight, sees no ipore than a flash of lightning. This
is a sort of poesy that does not exercise, but ravishes
and overwhelms our judgment. The fury that pos-
sesses him who is able to penetrate into it, also strikes
a third man by hearing him repeat it ; like a load-
stone, that not only attracts the needle, but also com-
municates to it the virtue to attract others. And it
is more evident at our theatres, that the sacred inspi*.
ration of the Muses, having first stirred up the poet
to anger, sorrow, hatred, and to be out of himself^
380 OP CATC THS YOUNGER.
whenever they will, does moreover by the poet pos*
sess the actor, and by the actor consequently all the
spectators. So much do our passions hang and de*
pend upon one another.
What son Poetry has ever had that power over me from a
Xiiluli^ie child, to pierce and transport me ; but this quick
preferred, sense of it that is natural to me, has been variously
handled by variety of forms, and not so much higher
and lower (for they were ever the highest in eveiy
kind), as differing in colour. First, a gay and
sprightly fluency, afterwards an acute and pene-
trating subtlety ; and lastly, a mature and constant
force. An example from Ovid, Lucan, and Virgil,
will better express them. But our poets are begin*
ning their career*
One says.
Sit Cato dum vivitfoma vel Ccpsare major.*
Let Cato*s feme.
Whilst he shall li?e, eclipse great Ceesar's name.
A second says,
Et invktum devicta morte Catonem.f
And Cato fell, invincible in death.
And the third, speaking of the civil wars between
Caesar and Pompey :
Ftctrix causa Diis placuii, sed victa CaUmi.t
Heaven aj^roves
The conquering cause, the conquer'd Cato loves.
And the fourth, upon the praises of Caesar, says,
Ei cuncta terrarum suhactaj
Prieter atrocem animum Catonis.i
And conquer'd all where'er his eagle flew.
But stubborn Cato nothing could subdue.
The master of the choir, after having characterked
the greatest Romans, ends thus:
His dantemjvra Catonem.^
And Cato giving laws to all the rest.
♦ Mart lib. vi. epig, 32. f Manil. Astronomicon, Mb. Jr. ver.B7.
t Lucan. lib. i. ver. 121. § Hor. Car. lib. ii.od.Lver. 23, 24.
I \ irgil, .£ucid. lib. tUL ver. 670.
VTE LAUGH AND CRY FOR THE SAME THING. 281
CHAPTER XXXVII.
That we laugh and cry for the same Things
W HEN we read in history, that Antlgonus wasThedoifk
very much displeased with his son, for Presenting "^.*^JJ3
him the head of king Fyrrhus his enemy, just killed wailed bj
fighting against him, and that seeing it he heartily ***^'^^*^*^
wept ;* that Rene, duke of Lorrain, also lamented
the death of Charles, duke of Burgundy ,t whom he
had just defeated, and appeared in mourning at his
funeral : and that, in the battle of Auroy t f which
the count de Montfort obtained over Charles de
Blois, his competitor for the duchy of Brittany), the
conqueror, meeting the corpse of his enemy, was
much afflicted at his death }§ we must not presently
cry out :
Et cost oven che tardmo ciascuna^
Stia passion sotto el contrario manto,
Rkoprey con la visia hor chiara, hor^ bruna,^
There ev*iy person, whether of joy or woe.
The pasion of his miDd can govern so,
As when most griev'd, to show a visage clear.
And melancholic, when best pleas'd, appear.
When Pompey's head was presented to Cassar, his-
tory tells us, that he turned away his &ce, as from a
saa and displeasing object. There had been so long
a correspondence between them, in the management
of the public ai&irs, so great a community of for-
tunes, so many mutual offices, and so near in alli-
ance, that this countenance of his ought not to suffer
under any misinterpretation ; or to be altogether
suspected for fidse or counterfeit, as this author seems
to believe :
♦ Plutarch, in the Life of Pyrrhus. f Before Nancy in 1477*
X In 1S64, in the reign of Charles V. king of France.
J Eroissart, vol. Leap. 228. || Petrarch, fol. 25, edic of 1545^
282 WE LAUGH AND CRT
Tutumque pulavii
Jam lomis esse socer, lachrymas non sponie cadenfes
Effudit^ gemitusque expressit pectore Iceto.*
■ And now he saw
Twas safe to be a pious fetlier-in-law,
He shed forc'd tears, and from a joyAil breast.
Fetched sighs and groans.
For though it be true, that most of our actions arc
deceitful, and that sometimes
Hceredisjletus suh persona rims est.\
The heir's dissembled tears, behind the skreen *>
Could one but peep, would joyful smiles be seen. )'
Miinkind Yct, in judging of these accidents, we are to con-
SialreDr sider how much our souls are oftentimes agitated
passions. >irith different passions. And, as they say, that in
our bodies there is a collection of divers humours,
of which, that is the governing passion, which, ac-
cording to the complexion we are of, is conmionly
most predominant in us ; so, though the soul have in
it divers motions to give it agitation, yet there must
be one master of the field, yet not with so entire a
conquest, but that through the flexibility and incon-
stancy of the soul, those of less authority may, upon
occasion, re-assume their place, and make a httle
sally in turn. Thence it is that we see not only
children, who simply follow nature, often laugh and
cry at the same thing ; but not one of us can boast,
what journey soever he may have in hand that he has
set his heart upon, but when he comes to part with
his family and friends, he will find something within
that ti'oubles him ; and though he refrain his tears,
yet he puts foot in the stirrup with a sad and cloudy
countenance. We may further observe, that what-
ever kindly flame have warmed the heart of well-bom
virgins, yet they ai e fain to be forced from about their
mothers' necks, to be put to bed to their husbands ;.
whatever this boon companion is pleased to say :
* Lucan. lib. ix. ver. 1037.
f Aulas Gellius ex Noctes Fublii Mimis, lib. xvii. cap. H,
Estne novis nupiis oJtio Fetmsy anne parenium
Frustrantwrjabis gaudia lachrymaliSf
Uberthn thalami (pms intra limina fundunt f
Non^ Uame Dwi^ vera gemumt^ jmmnaLfi
IXxrs the iair bride die sport so greatly dread^
' That she takes on so, when she's put to bed^
Her iiarents joys t'allay with a feign'd tear ?
She does not cry in earnest, I dare swear.
So that it is not strange to lament the death of aper-
son whom a man would by no means should be alive:
when I rattle my man, I do it with all the mettle I
have, and give him no feigned, but hearty real
curses ; but the heat being over, if he should stand
in need of me, I should be very ready to do. him
good ; for I instantly turn over a new leaf. When I
call him calf and coxcomb, I do not mean to entail
those titles upon him for ever ; neither do I think I
give myself the lie in calling him an honest fellow
preseimy after. No one quality engrosses us ab-
stractedly and universally. Were it not the sign of
a fool to talk to one's self, there would hardly be a
day or hour wherein I might not be heard to mutter
to m3rself, and against myself. Wretched fool that I
am ! And yet I do not thmk that to be my character.
He who seeing me one while cold, and presently
very fond of my wife, believes the one or the other
to be counterfeited, is an ass. Nero, taking leave
of his mother, whom he sent to be drowned, was
nevertheless sensible of some emotion at this fare-
well, and was struck with horror and pity. It is
said, that the light of the sun is not one continuous
thing, but that it darts new rajs so quick one upon
another, diat we cannot perceive the intermission :
Largus enim liqaidifons luminis (Bthereus Sol
Irrigai assidUe ccelum candore recently
Suppetil Qtque novo confeUim bimine lumen^f
i.y:
* Catull. de Comd Berenices, aum. Iziv. rer. 15*
f LucreU lib. v. ver, 282, &c.
284 WE LAUGH AND CRT FOR TSOS SAME THING*
For the (ethereal sun that shines so hright,
Being a fountain large of liquid light,
With fresh rays sprinkles still the dieerful sky.
And with new light the light does still supply.
Just SO the soul variously and imperceptibly darts out I
her passions. I
Xerxtt Artabanus surprising once his nephew Xerxes,
parted wuh c^id him for the sudden alteration of his counte-
joy and o- nancc. As he was viewing his forces without num*
irruh^"" ber, passing over the Hellespont, for the Grecian
ih*'"wl *^ expedition, his heart leaped with joy," to see so many
hu^Mt^^ thousands of men under his command; it also ap-
"">• peared in the gaiety and alacrity of his counte- /
nance.* But lus thoughts at the same instants sug- /
gesting to him» that of so many lives, in an age at
most, there would not be one left, he knit his brows,
and grew sad, even to the shedding of tears.
The lovi We have resolutelv pursued the revenge of an
i^ "wpoD injury received, and felt a singular satisfaction In the
thingi with victory : yet we are sorry, though it is not ifbr the
Mm* eyej' victory that we weep : there is nothing altered in
nor. with' that : but the soul looks upon the thing wiih another
tiw me ^y^9 ^^^ represents it to itself with another kind €i
b<u« face : for every thing has many biasses and aspects.
Relations, old acquaintances, and friendships, possess ^
our iuiaginaticm, and make it tender for the time,
according to their condition ; but the revolution is
so quick, that we do not perceive it :
Nil adeb fieri celeri raiione videiuTf
8uam si mens fieri proponit^ ei inchoat itsa*
cius ergo coiimus quum res se perdet nlia^
Ante octUos quorum inproniptu natwra videtw.f
As no one action seems so swiftly done.
As what the mind as plann'd, and once begun.
Tills observatbn evidently proves,
The mind than other things more swiftly moves.
Therefore, while we desire to make a work com-
plete, and all of a piece, we deceive oiu-selves.
* Hcrodot lib. viL p. ^56^ 457* f Lucr. lib. iiL ver. 185, &c*
OF SOLITUDE* 285
When Timoleon laments the murder he had com-
mitted, after so mature and generous deliberation, h6
does not lament the liberty restored to his country,
he does not lament the tyrant, but he laments his
brother : one part of his duty is performed, let us
give him leave to perform the other.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Of Solitude.
J^ET us lay aside that old comparison between the
active and the solitary life ; and as for the fine saying
which is made a cloke for ambition and avarice*
" That we are not bom for ourselves, but for the
" public," let us boldly appeal to those who are in
Eublic af&irs, let them lay their hands upon their
earts, and then say whether, on the contrary, they
do not rather aspire to titles and offices, and that
hurry of the world, to make their private advantage
at the public expense. The corrupt means by
which they push tneir way in our time, manifestly
declare that their end cannot be very good. Let us
then tell ambition, that it is she herself who gives us
a taste of solitude ; for what does she so much avoid
as society ? What does she so much seek as elbow-
room ?rA man may do well or ill every where j) But
if what Bias says be true, that the greatest part is
the worst part; or what the Preacher says, that there
is not one good of a thousand :
Rari quippe boni: mtmero vix sunt totidem^ qnot
Thebarum portce, yel divitis osiia Nih.*
How few good men are number'd on this soil !
Scarce more than gates of Thebes, ot moutiis of Nile.
the contagion is very dangerous in the crowd.
* Jiif . Bat. xiii. ver. 26, 27*
C(
286 OF SOLITUDE.
J»^a»«- There is a necessity for men either to imitate
ihe^wkked others, or to hate them: t both are to be avoided;
'*^'- the former, lest we become like to the wicked, be-
cause they are many ; the latter, for fear of hating
the many, because they are unlike us. And mer-
chants that go to sea have reason to be cautious, that
those who embark with them in the same bottom
Le neither dissolute, blasphemous, nor vicious other
ways; looking upon such society as unfortunate,
^nd therefore it was, that Bias $ pleasantly said to
some, who, being with him in a dangerous storm, im-
plored the assistance of the gods, " Hold yoifr
p eace, that they may not know you are in my
company." And as a more forcible example.
All uquerque, viceroy in the Indies, for Emanuel
king of Portugal, bemg in extreme peril of ship-
wreck, took a littie boy upon his shoulders, for this
only end ; that being a sharer of their danger, his
inn< cence might serve to protect him, and to recom-
mei.d him to the divine favour, that they might get
to ^hore : a wise man may indeed live every where
content, and be retired even in the crowd of a
palace ; but if it be left to his own choice he will
tell you, that he would fly the very sight of the
latter; he can endure it, if need be ; but if it be
left to himself, he will choose the first. He does
not think himself sufficiently rid of vice, if he must
yet contend with it in other men : Charondas
punished those for ill men, who were convicted of
keeping ill company.t There is nothing so unso-
ciable, and sociable, as man ; the one by his vice,
the other by his nature. And Antisthenes,t in my
opinion, did not give a satisfiictory answer, when he
♦ These reflections were a genuine translation from Seneca, ep. 7,
who has these very words : " Necessc est aut imiteris aut oderis.
*< Utrumque autem devitandum est, nevelsimiH, malis fias, ^uui
*^ multi sunt, necne iniroicus multis, quia dissimiles sunt."
f Diog. Laeft. in the Life of Bias, lib. i. sect. 6.
^ Diodorus of Sicily, lib. xii. ch. 4.
§ Diog. Laert in the Life of Antisthcnes.
wag reproached with frequenting ill company, by
saying, " That the physicians lived well amongst
•* the sick ;" . for if they contribute to the health of
the sick, no doubt but by the contagion, continual
sight of, and familiarity with diseases, they must of
necessity impair their own health.
. , Now the end I suppose is all one, to live at more The aim ©r
leisure, and at greater ease : but men do not always "*'***'*^'^-
take the right course to it ; for they often think tliey
have taken leave of business, when they have onlv
exchanged one employment for another. Tliere is .
little less trouble in governing a family, than a whole
kingdom. ; wherever the mind is perplexed, it is in
W entire disorder, and domestic employments are
not less troublesome for being less important.
Moreover, because we have left the court and the
exchange, we are not rid of the principal vexations
of life :
-— ■ Ratio^ el prudentia cnraSj
Non locus effusi lat^ maris arbiter aufert.*
Reason afid prudence our affections ease.
Not tlie bold site tluit wide commands the seas.
Our ambition, our avarice, irresolution, fears, and soiimAs
inordinate desires, do not leave us when we change fre^'uT*
our country ; frum ©or
Et ^^"'•
Post equitem sedet atra aira.f
And when he rides, black Care sits close behind.
Our passions oft follow us even to cloisters, and phi-
losopnical schools; nor deserts, nor caves, hair-
shirts, nor fasts, can disengage us from them :
' ■ • . HrBret lateri let halls arundo.X
The fiital shaft sticks to the wounded side.
A person telling Socrates,§ that such a one was
nothing improved by his travels, " No wonder,'* *)
said he, " tor he travelled along with himself*:''
♦ Hor. lib. i. epist 11, ver. 25, 2G. f ^- ^*h. iii. ode 1, vcr. 40.
if Virg. iEneid, lib. iv. vcr. 73. § Seoec. epist. IQi. m
S88 OF SOXJTtmi:.
•^ Quid ternts alio caUntes
Sole muiamm f patria quis extil
Se qvoque Jugit /*
To change our native soil, why should we ruOj
And seek one warmed by a fiercer sun ?
For who m exile ever yet could find.
He went abroad, and left himself behind?
If a man do not first discharge both himself and his
mind, of the burden with which he is oppressed,
motion will but make it press the harder : as in a
ship, the lading is of less encumbrance, when it is
well settled. You do a sick man more harm than
good, in removing him from place to place ; you
confirm the disease by stirring him, as stakes sink
deeper into the earth, by being moved up and down.
And, therefore, it is not enough to be remote from
the public ; it is not enough to shifl the situation; a
man must fly from the popular dispositions that have
taken possession of his soul, he must lay himself
aside, and come to himself again :
— Rupijam vinailay dicas.
Nam ei bictaia cants nodum airipit : attamen illi
Cum fugitj a collo trahitur pars langa caieruB.f
Thou'lt pajj perhaps, that tbou hast broke the chain.
Why, so the dog has gnaw'd the knot in 'twain
That ty'd him there; but as he flies, he feels
The ponderous chain still rattling at his heels.
We still carry our fetters along with us ; it is not an
absolute liberty ; we still look back upon what we
hsLVC left behind us ; our heads are full of it :
— — Nisi purgatum est pectus^ <piCB pnplia ndus
Atque periada tunc ingraiis insinuandum ?
Quantce conscindunt hominum cupedinis acres
Solliciium ainse, quantise periiide iimcres ?
Quidve superlia, spitrciltesj petulantia^ quantas
Efficiunt ci'OdeSy quid luxus, desidiesquePX
Unless the mind be purg'd, wliat conflicts dire.
And dangers will not ev'ry thought inspire ?
* Hor. lib. ii. ode 16» vcr. 18^ &c
f Persios, sat. v. ver. 158, &c. % Lucret. lib. v. ver. 44^—49.
TV ungrateCul man, how many Utter cares
Incessant gall, and then how many fears ?
. What horrid massacres from pride ensue.
From sloth, lust, petulance, and from lux'iy too?
Our disease is in the noind, which cannot escape in what
from itself: triicsoii.
ta4e con-
la culpa est ammus, qui se turn effugit uttquam.* '"^*
Still in the mind the fault doth lie^
That never from itaelf can fly.
and is therefore to be called in, and contracted.
This is the true solitude, and such as may be enjoyed
even in populous cities, and the courts of lungs }
though more commodiously apart.
Now if we will attempt to live alone, and to get
rid of company, let us so order it, that our conten*
ment may be in our own power. Let uS dissolve aU;
obligations that attach us to others : let us be so far
our own masters, that we may live alone in good
earnest, and live at our ease too.
Stilpo having escaped from the fire that consumed ConstMcy
the city where he lived, by which his wife, children, «n«he.«n*<w
with all his substance were destroyed, Demetrius T ""*^
Poliorcetes, seeing his countenance not dismayed in
so great a ruin of his country, asked him if he had
received no loss ?t To which he made ansWer, No ;
and that, God be thanked, nothing was lost of his.
This also was the meaning of the philosopher Antis-
thenes, when he pleasantly said,t that men should
only fbrnish themselves with such things as could
float on the water, and swim with the owner to
escape a shipwreck v^nd certainly a wise man loses
nothing, if he save but himsel^^hen the city of Nola
was ruined by the barbarians, Paulinus, who was
bishop of that place, having there lost all he had,
and peine himself a prisoner, prayed after this man-
ner,S ^* X) Ix>rd, defend me £rom being sensible c^
* Hor. lib. L epist 14. f Senec epist 9.
X Diogenes Laert. in the Life of Antisthenes.
§ Augustin. de Civitate Dei, lib. i. ^cfp. xviiL
vot. I. U
(
$90 0r soLituDir.
^^ ^fais loss ; for thou knowest, they have yet touched
^< nothing that I could call mine ;" the riches that
made him rich, and the goods that made him good,
remained still entire.
Tbetrac Hiig it Is to make choice of treasures that can
^!i|[^'^ seci^e themselves from injury, and to hide them iif
sBu a place where no one can enter, and which cannot
^^^ be betrayed by any but ourselves. Wives, children,
goods, and especially health, are means of comfort ;
but we are not to set our hearts upon them, as that
they become absolutely necessary to our happiness :
we must reserve a back-room, wholly our own, and
entirely free, wherein to fix our liberty, our principal
retreat and solitude. Here must we have converse |
wiUi oursdv^, and so privately, that no knowledge '
or communication of any foreign concern, be id- (
mitted ; there to talk and to laugh, as if without
wife, duldren, goods, train, or attendance, to the
end, that when we happen to lose any or all of these
it may be no new thing to us to be without them.
We have a mind pliable of itself, that is capable of
getting company, has wherewithal to att^k and to
defend, to receive and to give : let us not then fear
in diis solitude, to languid under an uncomfortable
idleness :
In solis sis tibi iurba tocis.*
. in solitary places be
Unto thyself good company.
M«n pat Virtue is satisfied with herself, without discipline,
{J|J|^'j^*|^y.without words,^ without effects. In our ortUnary
f«ir a thou- actions, there is not one of a thousand that con*
SUf di'^^^™® ourselves *^ he that thou seest scrambling up
the ruins of that wail, furious, and out of Us mind,
against whom so many muskets are levelled; and
that other, all over scars, pale, and fiunting with
hunger, and yet resolved rather to die than to open
his gate to him, dost thou think that diese men are
there upon their own account ? No ; perhaps^ in the
* .TibolL Kb. W. ekg. xis. ver. 12..
OF SOLITUDE. 291
behalf of one whom they never sawv and that never
concerns himself what becomes of them, but lies
waUowing ^e while in sloth and pleasure: this
other slavering, blear-eyed, slovenly fellow, that thou
seest come out of his study after midnight, dost thou
think he has been tumbling over books, to learn how
to become a better man, wiser, and more content i
No such matter, he will there end his days, but he
will teach posterity the measiu'e of Plautus's verses,
and the orthography of a Latin word: who does
not voluntarily exchange his health, his repose, and
his very life, for reputation and glory, the most
useless, frivolous, and false coin, that is current
amongst us? Our own death does not sufficiently
terrify us, but we moreover charge ourselves with
that of our wives, children, and family: our own
affiurs do not afibrd us anxiety enough, but we also
meddle with those of our neighbours and friends, to
crack our brains, and torment us :
Fahf quenquamne hommem in animum insiituere, aui
Pararey quod sii cariuSy qmm ipse est sili f*
Alas ! what mortal will be so unwise.
Any thing dearer than himself to prize ?
Solitude seems to me to be the most becomin|^Towboa
and rational, in such as have already employed their J^JJl^^"^**
most active and flourishing age in the world's ser- <
vice ; according to the example of Thales. ^ It is
enough to have lived for others, let us at least live
out the small remnant of life for ourselves ; let
us now call in our thoughts and intentions to our-
selves, and consult our own ease : it is no light thing
to make a sure retreat ; there will be enough to do,
without a mixture of other enterprises. Smce God
gives us leisure to prepare fi>r our remove, let us
make ready, truss our baggage, take leave betimes of
the company; let us disentangle ourselves from
those violent importunities that engage us elsewhere^
• Ter. Adelph. act. l/scsn. L w. IS, 14.
V2
292 CTF 60LITUI>£#
and alienate us from ourselves : we must bre^ the
knot of our obligations, how strong soever, and no
longer love this or that, but espouse nothing beside
ourselves : that is to say, let tlie remainder be oia:
own ; but not so joined, and so close rivetted, as not
to be forced away witliout flaying us, and tearing
away part of us with it.
Of what The greatest thing in the world is jR)r a person to (\
Mc^uis know that he is his own master. J* is time to weas ] I
for a man Qurselves from society, when we cannot add any
tklt'iieu thing to it ; and he that is not in a condition to lend
bu owD must take care not to borrow. Our forces and abi-
"'**^'^' lities fail us; let us call them in, and keep them to
^ourselves: he that can, within himself, obliterate
<and jumble together the offices of so many friend*
.«hips^ and of society, let him do it : in this decay cS'
.nature, which rendem him useless, burdensome,
.and troublesome to others, let him take care not to
become useless, burdensome, and uneasy to hinv-
self :^ let him sooth and caress himself; and, above
all things, be sure to govern himself with awe and
reverence to his reason and conscience, so as to be
ashamed to make a false step in their presence. Ra*
rum est enhn^ ut satis se quisque vereatur ;* ** For
*' it is rarely seen that men have respect and reve-
" rence enough for themselves.'* Socrates says, that
youth are to cause themselves to be instructed, grown
men to exercise themselves in well doing, and old
men to retire from all civil and mihtai^y employments,
living at their own discretion, without the obligation
to any office.
tuc consti- There are some complexions more proper for these
SogrmtfdpJ'ccepts of retirement than others. ' Such as are <^ a
for retire; moist and cold constitution, and of a tender will and
"*"'* affection, and which is not easily subdued or em-
ployed, as I am, both by nature and reason, vriH
sooner incline to this advice than active and bu^
souls, which embrace all, engage in all, and are liot
* FythagonMU
•^p s62.rri7bi. Q93
upon frvery tlung; who bfler, present, and' give
Chemseh'es up to every occasion. We are to serve
ourselves with these accidental and extraneous things^
so far as they are pleasant to us, but by no means to
lay our principal foundation there. This is no true
one, neither nature nor reason allow it so to be, and
why therefore should we, contrary to their laws,
make <mr own contentment a slave to the power of
another ? To anticipate also the accidents of tou
tune, and to deprive ourselves of those advantages
we have in our own hands, as several have dcwe out
of devotion, and some philosophers by reason ; to
serve a man's self, to lie hard, to put out our own
icyes, throw wealth into the river, and to seek out
grief (some by the uneasiness and misery of this life,
to acquire bliss in another ; others, by laying them-^
selves low, to avoid the danger of a new fall), are
^ts of an excessive virtue. The stoutest and most
obstinate natures render even their secret retire^
ments glorious and exemplary:
^Tula et parvida laudo^
Cum res deficiunt ; salis inter villa fortisp
Verumy uoi quid melius contingit et unctiuSy idem
Vos saperey et sohs mo bene vivere^ quorum
Cmtsptdiur nitidis Jundata pecurda viUisJ^
TYm I, when better entertainiQents fail.
Bravely cooM^end a plain aad frugal meal ;
On cheaper swppers, show tvyself full wise ;
But if some dainties more luxurious rise,
I eall those wise and Ujest, and only those^
Whose laige estate their splendid mansion shows*
A great deal less would serve my turn well enouglu
It IS enough for me, under fortune's favour, to pre-^
pare myself for her di^ace, and, being at my ease,
to represent to myself, as far as my imagination can
stretch, the ill to come ; as we do at justs, and tilt^
iT^9 where we counteifeit a war in the greatest calm
« Hor. Ubu i. epist. 15, yer# ta— 4&
994 or soLiTtms.
of peace. I do not think Arcesilaus^ the philoMV
Eher a whit the more extravagant^ for knowing that
e made use of gold and silver vessels, when his for-
tune allowed him so to do ; but have a better opinion
of him, than if he had denied himself what he used
with liberality and moderation,
d^ "^ ^ ^^^ ^^^ utmost limits of natural necessity, and
M^itici. considering the poor man beffging at my door often*
times more locund and healthy toui I am, I put my-
self in his place, and attempt to dress my mind after
his mode, runninff, in like manner, over other ex«
amples; thou^ I fancy death, poverty, contempt,
ana sickness treading on my heels; I easily resoiye
not to be afraid of what one, so much my inferior,
bears with so much patience, and am not willing to
believe that a less understanding can do more than a
greater, or that argument can do as much as custom :
and knowing how trifling these accidental conve-
niences are, I do not forget, in the height of all my
enjoyments, to make my chief prayer to Almighty
God, that he will please to render me content with
mysdf, and the condition wherein I am. I see seve-
ral young men« very gay and frolicksome, who ne-
vertheless keep a heap of pills in their trunks at home,
to take when the rheum snail seize them, which they
fear so much the less, because they think they have
a remedy at hand. Every one should do the same ;
and, moreover, if they fina themselves subject to some
more violent disease, should furnish themselves with
such medicines as may benumb and stupify the part.
What oc The employment a man should choose for such a
^p^^|. life, ought neither to be laborious nor tedious, other-
ivyiif^' wise it is to no purpose at all to be retired: and
this depends upon evenr one^s particular taste;
mine has no manner of bias to husbandry, and
such as love it ought to apply themselves to it with
moderation :
« Oiog. iMrt. in the Life pf Arcenlaus, lib. br. $ect. 39,
fJonofiiur sili res, mmsesulmUtererdmsJ^
A man should to himaetf his busioess fi^
But not to servile dnidgeiy submit
Husbandry is otherwise a very servile emjdoyment,
as SaUust tells us ; though some parts oi it are less
so than othere, as the eare of gardens, wUdi Xeno*
phon attributes to Cyrus j and a mean may be found
out between that low and sordid applicafiKm, so fiiU
of solicitude, which is seen in men \rao make it their
entire business and study, and that stupid and ex*
traordinaiy negligence letting all things go at xaiv
4om:
^-^^DemocrUi pecus edit a^ellos^
Cultaque, dumperegr^ est animus sme carport veba.f
Democritus' cattle spoils his fruits and ooqi^
Whilst he aloft on fimc/s i¥mgs is born.
But let us bear what advice the younger Fliny with wh«i
gives his £riend Cornelius Rufust jgijpon the subject ^<^.^i>7
of solitude : I a<|vise thee, iQ tUe profound but plenr^M^^^
tiful retirement wherein thou art, to leave to thy^eMirt.
servants the care of thy husbandry, and to addict
thyself to the study of letters, in order to extract
from thence someUung that may be for ever thii^^
own. By which he means reputation ; a humour
like Cicero's, who says, that he would employ his
solitude and retirement from public affiurs to acquire
by his wtiiigB iui immortal lite :
Vst/ueadeShe
Scire iuumfdhUesi, nUi ie scire hofi sciat alter f§
Must thou thy knowledge then be fore'd to own
Useless to thee, unless to odien known?
It appears to be reason, when a man talks of re^
tiring from the world, that he should look quite oiic
^himself. These do it but by halves. Th^desigxi
• Hot. epist L lib. I ver. 19.
n>id. ^te. 1% lib. I ver. 12, IS.
In epist. S, lib. L to Caninius Rufus^
jf ten. saL jii Ter. 26, 87f
I
2d6 OF SOLITUDB.
well enough for themselves, it is true, when thcj
shall be no more in it ; but still thejr pretend to ex-
tract the fruits of that design from the world, though
absent from it, bj a supposition ridiculously cotitra-
dictory.
What is to The imagination tyf those who seek solitude upon
6i the^ISu*^^ account of devotion, filling their hopes with ccr*
tode which taitity of diviuc promises in the Other life, is much
foMhl'^e^we rationdly founded. They propose to them*
of devo. fielveS'God, an infinite object in goodness and power*
**""' The soul hae there wherewithal, at full liberty, to
satiate her desires. Afflictions and pains turn to
their advantage, while they are employed in the ac-
quisition of health, and joys everla$ting. Death is
to be wished for, as it is the passage to so perfect a
condition. The severity of the rules they impose
upon themselves is soon soflened by custom, and
their carnal appetites damped and subdued by re-
sisting them ; ror they are only supported by use
and exercise. This sole end, therefore, viz. an-
other happy and immortal life, justly merits that
we should abandon the pleasures and convenience^
of this. And he that can really and constantly in-
flame his soul with the ardour of his lively faith and
hope, secures to himself in this solitude the mostv6*
hiptuou^ and delicious life that can be enjoyed.
The deflci- Neither the end, then, nor the means of this advice
Swicilof Pliny's,* pleases me, for we often Ml out of the
.'• ad. frying-pan into the fire. This book«work is as painful
as any otiier, and as great an enemy to healthy which
ought to be the chief care of every man ; neither
ought a man to be lulled with the jpdeasure of it,
which » the same that destroys the- frugal, the aya*'
ricious, the voluptuous, and the ambitious man. The
wise give us cautioq enough to beware of the trea-
chery of our desires, and to distinguish true and ge-
nuine pleasures ^om «uch as are mixed and compli-
^ * Viz. The advice of PliHy imd Cicero, Chat we should quit bu-
liness, and apply to study, m order to get immprt^ fame by some
pomposition.
▼ke.
OP SOLITUDE. 29?
cated with great pain* For the greatest part of plea-
sures, say they, tickle and caress, only to strangle
us, like those thieves the Egyptians called Philetas;^
and we should have care of drinking too much when ^
we have the head ache : but pleasure, to deceive us,
inarches before, and conceals her train. Eooks are
pleasant; but if by too much conversing with them
we impair our health, and spoil our good humour,
two of the best enjoyments we have, let us give it
over and quit them ; I for my part am one of those
who think that no fruit derived fi:om them can re-
compense so great a loss. As men who feel them-
selves weaken^ by a long series of indisposition give
themselves up at last to the mercy of medicine, and
prescribe to themselves certain rules of living, which
they are never more to transgress ; so he who retires,
weary of and disgusted with the common way of
living, ought to model this new one he enters into
by the rules of reason. He ought to have taken .
leave of all sorts of labour, what face soever it bears,
to shake off ail those passions in general, which
disturb the tranquillity of body and soul, and to
choose the way that best suits with his own humour :
Unusqidsque sua noverit ire via.\
We each know best to what we are incllDed.
In husbandry, study, hunting, and all other exer-
cises, men are to proceed to the utmost limits of
pleasure ; but must take heed of engaging further,
where begins a mixture of trouble. We are to re-
serve so much occupation and employment only, as
is necessary to keep us in breath, and to defend us
from the mconvemences, which the other extreme,
of a dull and stupid laziness, brings along with it.
There are some sterile, knotty sciences, and chiefly certMud-
hammered out for the crowd; let such be left to whSh thL*
them wlio are engaged in the public service ; I, for ^^^
ray part, care for no other books, but either such as bamNciir
^ Seneca, epist. 51. \ Fropert. lib. ii. eleg. xxv. yef. S8.
298 OF SOLITUDE.
are pleasant and easy, to delight me, or those that
comfort and instruct me how to regulate my life and
deatli :
— TacUum sybms inter repiare salulreSf
Curantem quid^id digmsm sapiente bonoque esi»*
Silently meditatiiig in the groves.
What best a wise and honest man behoves*
Wiser men may carve to themselves k repose wholly
spiritual, as they have great force and vigour of
mind ; but for me, who have not an extraordinary
soul, I find it very necessary to support myself with
bodily conveniences; and age having of late de*
prived me of those pleasures that were most to my
fancy, I whet my appetite to those that remain, and
are more suitable to this other season. We ought to
take fast hold of the pleasures of life, which our
years, one aHer another, snatch away £rmn us (
-^— C!tfr/^9itu5 dtttcia ; noslrum est
Quodviuis: cims, et manes, eifabulajies,\
Let us enjoy life's sweets, for shortly we.
Ashes, pale ghosts, and iables, all snail b^.
Glory «iid Now as to gloiy, the end that Pliny and Cicerp
iSSm '"t? propose to us, I am &r from putting it to the ac-
^ooonpa . ^^^^^ . ijj^ ambition is the most contrary quality to
solitude ; and glory and repose are so inconsistent,
that they cannot possibly inhabit \xi one and the same
place. In my opinion, these hav^ only their arms
and legs disengaged from the prowd, their affections
remaining attached to it mor^ than ever :
Tun\ vetule, aurkuUs alienis cottigis escas f %
Dost tbou^ old dotard, at these years,
Steal scraps of verse for others ears ?
They are only retired to take a better le?^p^ and, by
9, stronger motion, to m^ke the greater push intp
the crowd. Will you see how they shoot short?
* Hon lib. i. epist. iv. ver. 4, 5. f Persius, ^t. v. ver. 151, kc^
X Ibid. sat. i. ver. 2^.
OF SOLITUDE. 299
Let US put into the balance the advice of two philo-
sophers of two very different sects,* writing, the
one to Idomeneus, the otiher to Lucilius, their mends,
to draw them to solitude, from worldly honours, and
the administration of public afiairs. You have, say
they, hitherto lived swimming and floating; come
now, and die in the harbour : you have given the
former part of your life to the light, give what re«
mains to the shade. It is impossibte to give over
business, if you do not quit we fruit of it : there-
fore disengage ^^ourselves from all QQUcem for ^me
and glory. It is to be feared, the lustre of your
former actions will throw too much light upon you,
and follow you into your most private retreat : quit,
with other pleasures, that which proceeds from the
approbation of another : and as to your knowledge
and partis, never concern yourselves,t they will not
lose their effect, if yourselves be ever the better for
them. Remember nim, who being asked, '^ Why he
*^ took so much pains in an art,t that could come to
** the knowledge of but few persons ?" ** A few
" are enough for me," replied ne, " I have enough
^^ of one, I have enough of never a one." He said
true, you and a companion are theatre enough for
one another,§ or you for yourself. t| Be you one to
the whole people, and the whole people but one to
you.f It is an unworthy ambition for a man tx}
think to derive glory from his sloth and privacy : you
are to do like the beasts of chase,** who put out
the track at the entrsmce into their den. You are
no more to concern yourselves what the world says
of you, but what you are to say of yourselves : re-
tire within yourselves, but first prepare for your re*
* Epicunu and Seneca. See Seneca, ep. xxL
f '* Cur ego, inqui9, urta didici ? Non est quod timeas ne operam
*' perdideris : Tibi didicisti.'* Seneca, epist.?.
^ Senec ep. 7. § Id. tbid»
II ** Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum fimius." This is f^t
Epicurus wrote to one of his friends^
f Seneca ascribes this saying to Democritus, ep. 7.
♦* Seneca, cp. 68.
SOO AN OBSERVATION CONCEROTNG CICERO.
ccption..* It were a folly to trust yottrselves ill yotir
own hands, if you cannot govern yourselves :t ^
man may as well miscarry alone, as in company i
till you have become such persons, before whom
you dare not trip, and have conceived a respect fot
yourselves. Versentur species honest a animo :X ** Let
•* just and honest things be still represented to the
** mind/' Present continually to your imagination^
Cato, Phocion, and Aristides, in whose presence
fools themselves would hide their faults ; and make
them controllers of all your intentions. Should
they deviate anywhere, your respect to them wiH
afiain set you right ; they will keep you in this way
OT being contented with yourselves; to borrow
nothing of any but from yourselves ; to stop and fix
your souls in certain limited thoughts, wherein they
may please themselves, and having understood the
true and real goods, which men the more enjoy the
more they understand them, to rest satisfied, without
desire for the enjoyfnent or prolongation of life op
fiime. This is ihe precept of genuine philosophy,
not of a boasting and prating philosophy, such as
that of: th6 two first-S
The ambi-
tion of CI
ceroand
PliDy.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
An Observation concerning Cicero^ Sfc.
One word more, by way of comparison between
this couple. There are to be gathered out of the
* Seneca» ep. 68.
f ** Plrodest sine dubio custodem sibi imposuisse, et habere qiieni
** reroidasy quern interesse tuis ct^tationibus jodices. OiMiia
** nobis mala nolitudo persuadet. Cum jam profeceris ut sit tibi
*< etiam tui reverentia, licebit dimlttas psdagogum. Interim te
** aliquorum auctoritate custodi. Aut Cato me sit, aut Scipio, bu%
** Lseiius, aut cujus intenrenta perditi quoque homines vida supprime^
*< rent, dum te efficis coram quo peccare non audit.'' Se^ec* ep. 25*
% Cicero, Tusc. Quest, lib. ii. cap. 12.
i Pliny die younger, and Cicero.
AK OBSBRVATIOK COKCERNIKG CICERO« 801
ipi^rlthigs of Cicero, and this younger Pliny (who, in
my opinion, little resembles his uncle in his
humour), infinite testimonies of a nature beyond
measure ambitious, and amongst others, this for one^
that they both, in the £ice of all the world, solicited
the historians of their time,* not to forget diem iu
their memoirs ; and fortune, as if in, spite, has trans*
mitted the vanity of those requests upon record
down to the present age, and has long since damned
the histories*
But this exceeds all meanness of spirit, in persons To wi«t
©f such quality as they were, to think to denve any ^1 Mr*
great renown from babbling and prating ; even by piiDyiF^
the publishing of their private letters to their friends, ^^^^
so that as some of them were never sent, the oppor- were pi*,
tunity being lost, they nevertheless exposed them to *"^^^'
the light, with this worthy excuse, that they were
unwilfing their labours and lucubrations should be
lost. Was it not verj well becoming two consgls of
Rome, sovereign magistrates of the republic that com-
manded the world, to spend their time in contriving
quaint and elegant letters, thence to gain the repu-
tation of being masters of their own mother tongue ?
What could a pitiful schoolmaster have done worse, /
who by such a knowledge gets his living ?
If the acts of Xenophon and Caesar, had not very why xe.
far transcended their eloquence, I scarce beUeve "^'p'"®'""*
they would ever have taken the pains to have writ wrotiTtheir
them. They made it their business to recommend J^^^" *••*•■
not their speeches, but their actions.
* Cicero writing to Lucceius, ep. 12, lib. v. and Pliny to Tacitus,
ep. 93, lib. viL with this most'reniarkable difference, that the first
earnestly desires his friend, not to attach himself scrupulously to the
rules of, but boldly to leap the barriers of truth in his favour. ** Te
'* plan6 etiam atque etiatn rogo, ut et omes ea vehementius etiam
** quam fortasse sentis et in ea leges historise negligas ;'' whereas
Pliny declares expressly, that he doe^ not desire '^itus to give the
least offence to tlie truth, ** Quancjuam non exigo ut excedas rei
** actss moduni. Nam nee historia debet egredi verltatem, et
" honeste factis Veritas sufficit.'^ One would have thought that
Montai^e should, in justice to Pliny, have distinguished him from
Cicero m this particular.
302 AN OBSERVATION COKCERNIKd CICSRO*
2]^^1j And could the perfection of eloquence add any
mrubysj^ufame suitable to the age of a great person, certainly
iieuat! Scipio and Laslius had never resigned the honour of
then* comedies, with all the luxuriance and delicacy
of the Latin tongue, to ah African slave^; for that
the work was theirs, its beauty and excellence suf-
ficiently evince ; besides, Terence himself confesses
as much, and I should take it ifl of any one that
should dispossess me of that belief.
Qualities It is A ^^^ o^ mockery, and affi-ont, to extol a
vbkbm man for qualities misbecoming his condition, though
tolraan*! Otherwise commendable in themselves ; as if a man
JU^*"JjJj^ should commend a king, for being a good painter, a
■^ do* Mb good architect, a good marksman, or a good runner
**^"* at the ring; commendations that add no honour,
unless mentioned in the train of those that more
properly become him, namely, his justice, and the
science of governing and conducting his people
both in peace and war. Thus agriculture did
honour to Cyrus, and eloquence and learning to
Charlemagne* I have, in my time, known some
who, by a knack of writing, have got both their
titles and livelihood, disown their apprentice-age,
purposely corrupt their style, and BXKCt the igno*
ranee of so vulgar a quality (which our nation ob-
serves to be rarely seen in very learned hands) to
seek a reputation by better qualities.
GrMtnctt Demosthenes's companions in the embassy to
u^p"!^^ Philip, extolling that prince for being handsome,
for com- eloquent, and a hearty toper ; Demosthenes replied^
■wn tiling..^, That those were commendations fitter for a
*' woman, an advocate, a lawyer, or a spunge, than
« for a king:"*
Imperet bellanie prior ^ jacerUem
Lents tn hostem.\
First let his empire from his valour flow,
And tlien from mercy on a prostrate foe.
* Plutarch, in the Life of DenostheneSi cap. im
t Horat. Carm. Secul. ver. 51, 59»
AN OBSERVATION CONCERNING CICJ^RO, 303
It is not his ptofession to know either how to hunt or
to dance well :
Orabunt causae alii, ccBliqiie meahis
hescrilent radioy et fidsemia sidera diceni ;
Hie regere imperio poptuos sciai,*
Liet others plead at the litigious bar,
Describe the spheres, point out each twinkling star.
This mao can nde, a peater art by &r.
Phitarch says, that to appear so excellent in these GmtoMi
less necessary qualities, is to produce witness against ^^®"',*\^
B man's self, that he has spent his time and applied chtegt«<t
his study ill, which ought to have been employed in *JJJ22li3^
things more necessair and useful. Philip, kmg of
Macedon, tlierefi)re» having heard that Alexander,
his son, sang once at a feast to the wonder and envy
of the best musicians there: ** Art not thou a-
*• shamed/' said he to him, " to sing so well?"t
And to the same Philip, a musician said, with whom he
was disputing about some thin^ concerning his art :
" Heaven forbid ! Sir," said he, " that so great a
" misfortune should ever befal you, as to understand
•* these things better than I!"t A king should be
able to answer, as Iphicrates did the orator, who
pressed upon him, in his invective, after this man-
ner, " And what art thou, that thou bravest at this
** rate ? Art thou a man at arms, art thou an archer ?
*^ art thou a pike-man ? I am none of all this ;§ but
** I know how to command all these/' And Antis-
thenes took it for an argument, not much to the
praise of kmenias, that he was cried up for playing
excellently upon the flute.
I know, very well, that when I hear any one insist tu merit
upon the language of essays, I had rather a great ^[.^^^J^-j^
deal he would say nothing. It is not so much to la^?^ *
elevate the style, as to depress the sense ; and so
^ * Virg. Mxk. Ub. vi. ver. 844.
' t Flutardiy in the Life of Pericles, cap. 1.
^ In a tract of Plutarch^ how to distinguish the flatterer from the
friend, cap. 25.
i Plutarch, Inhis Treatise of Fortune.
S04t AN OBSERVATION CONCERNING CICERd.
much the more offensively, as they do it more-
obliquely. Yet am I much deceived, if many other
essayists enter farther into the matter, and how well
or ill soever, if any other writer has scajttered things
more material, or at least bolder, upon paper thm
myself. To make them the more regiuar, I only
muster up the heads ; should I annex the sequel, I
should strangely enlarge this volume: and how
many stories have I scattered up and down in this
book, that I only touch upon, which, should any one
more curiously search into, they would find matter
enough to produce infinite essays : neither those
stories, nor my allegations always serve simply for
example, authority, or ornament ; I do npt regard
them only for the use I make of them : they often
carry, besides what I apply them to, the seed of a
more rich and a bolder matter, and sometimes con-
ti*arywise a more delicate sound both to myself, who
will express no more of it in this place, and to others
who shall happen to be of my taste. But to return
to the talent of speaking; I find no great choice
between not knowmg to speak any thing but very
ill, and not knowing any thing but speaking well.
Non est ornamentum virile concinnitas.* *' Neatness
*' of style is no manly ornament." The sa^es tell us,
tliat as to what concerns knowledge, there is nothing
but philosophy; and as to what concerns effects,
nothmg but virtue, that is generally proper to al}
• degrees, and to all orders.
ipiCTiros There is something like this in these two other
una Seneca % •-% % /* % t • • i
wet in op. philosophers, for they also promise eternity to the
f^"y**^"j,j|** letters which they write to their friends ; but it is
Cicero, after another manner, and by accommodating them*
selves, for a good end, to the vanity of another ; for
they write to them, that if the concern of maJdng
themselves known to fiiture ages, and the thirst or
glory, yet detain them in the management of public
ai&irs, and make them fear the soutude and retire-
« Seo. ep. 95.
AN OBSERVATION CONCEI^NING CICERO. 305
meat to which they would persuade them ; let them
never trouble themselves more about it,* forasmuch
as they shall have credit enough with posterity to
assure them, that were there nothing else but the
very letters thus writ to them, those letters will ren-
der their names as famous as their own public actions
could do. And besides this difference, these are not
frothy and empty letters, that have nothing but well
chosen words, in a proper cadence, to support them,
but rather replete and abounding with hne lessons
of wisdom by which a man may render himself not
more eloquent, but more wise ; and that instruct us
not to speak but to do well: away with that elo-
quence which so enchants us with its harmony, that
we would study it more than things; unless you
think that of Cicero so perfect, as to form a com-
plete bodv of itself.
And of him I shall add one story more, which we cicerovery
read of him to this purpose, whereby we shall be let JfJ^^*'^
folly into his temper. He was to make art oration
in public, and found himself a littled straitened in
time, to fit his words to please him, when Eros,t one
of his slaves, brought nim word that the audience
was deferred till the next day, at which he wa^so
ravished with joy, that he enfranchised him for the ,.
good news. ^
To what has been alreadv said on the subject of Mon.
letters, let me add, that it is a kind of writing ^I^^IT^'g^
wherein my friends think I can do something }t epistolary
style.
* When Epicurus wrote to Idomeneus, then the slave of rigid
power, and who had great afFain in his hands, to persuade him from
a gay life, to the pursuit of true and solid glory, ** If," said he, ** you
** are fond of glory, my epistles will make you more celebrated
'* than all things that you admire, and for which you are admired."
Seneca^ tF*^^* ^^* ^ ^^ ^^'^"^ epistle, says to bis friend Lu*
cilius, ** The very thing which Epicurus could promise to his
*' friend, I promise to you, Lucilius ; 1 shall be in the favour of pos-
•* teritv : it is in my power to bring out names that shall be lasting/*
t llutarch, in his Notable Saymgs of Kings, &c« in the article of
Cicero.
X I have met with eight letters from Montaigne, wherewith I
shaU enrich this edition, that may give some idea of what he here sa^i.
YOJL. !• X
asid I should rather have chose to publish oopf
whinmes in that than any other form, did I ksow-to*
whom to write ; but I wamted such a settled corres^
po(Qden«e as I oJSbce had» to attract me to it, to raise
my fancy, and to support me« For to traffic with
the winiy BB some others hare dooe, and to forge
vain names to correspond with, o& a serious suls^ct,
I could never do it out m a d^eam, being a sworn
enemy to all maainer of fiction : I would have Weo
more ^figent, and more confidently sacureo had I
had a hearty friend, to whom to address, than to
consider the different aspects of a whole people, and
I am deceived if I had not sucoeeded better. I
have YiaturaUy a comic and familiar style ; but it is a
peculiar one, and not proper for public business, my
language b^ing in all respects, too compact, irregu^r
lar, abrupt, lind singular j and as to letters .of cere*
monj, mat have no other substance than a &e chain
of CQiorteouB words^ I am wholly to seek ; I have
neither &culty, nor relish, for those tedious offers of
service and affection ; I have not so much faith io
them, md woiold not fi>rgive myself, should I o&r
Kon- more than I intend, which is very different from the
SSiion to present practice ; for there never was so abject and
the extra- seTvile prostitutioss of tcudcrs of life, soul, devo-^
SSJJiu tion, adoration, vassal, slave, and I cannot teU what,
nentt fn gg now ; when such expressions are sp commonly
^"*^"' and so indifferently bandied to and fro by every one,
and to every one, that when they woiud prc^ss a
stronger and more respectful inclination they have
not wherewitjial to express it I mortally hate all
air of flattery, whence I naturally fall into a dry,
rough, and crude way of speaking, which, to such as
do not know me, may savour a little of disdain : I
honour those most to whom I pay the least ; and
when my soul is cheerful, I forget all ceremony.
Metbinlcs they should read it in my heart, and that my
expression injures my conception* To bid welcome,
take leave, give thanks, salute, offer my service, and
sttdi verbal formalities, as the ceremonious laws of
AN OBSEBYATION COKCSIttfSff9 QlCKRO. 807
our cmlity enjoin) I know no man w stupidly uniHX>» tig nnnt.
vided of language as myself: and have never beenltnteiirt.
4Wiploye4 in writing Irtterg of favour, and reoom^^^^ ^r re^
mendation, but he tor whom I wrrt^e tboiu^t tiliema*'pnr*°****
cold and flat. The Italians are great printers o^
letters. I do believe I have a hundred volumes of
them ; of all of which, those of Hannibal Caro
seem to me to be the best. If all the paper I have
formerly stained to the ladies, when my hand was
really prompted by love, was now in being, there
jnight perhaps be found a page worthv to be com-
municated to our young inamoratos, who are intoxi-
cated with that passion.
I always write my letters in post haste, so that The borr^
though mine is an intolerable bad hand, I rather j^J^^^
choose to write myaelf, than to employ another ; for wrote.
J can find none able to write &Bt efkoug^ for my
4ictatiag, and I sever transcribe my. 1 have ac*
.customed the great ones tliat know me to put up
49irith my blots and dashes, and upon paper without
idd 9t margin. Those letters that cost me the mo$t
•pdins, are the worst ; when I drag Che matter in, it is
z jsign thiit I am not there. I faU to without preme^
iditatioa or design ; the first paragraph begets the
second, and so on. . The letters of this age consist
jyiore m margin, and pre&ces, than matter ; I had
irather wiite two letters^ than close and fold up on^
^m1 always aspign that employment to some other;
'fpalsQ, when the business is dispatched, I would,
vkh all my heart, commission another hand, to ad4
those Jong harangues, oifers, and prayers that we
j[^ce at the bottom, and would be glad that some
new custom discharged us of that unnecessarf
trouble ; as also that of superscribing them with (i
'«|^ain of qualities, and titles, which, for fear of mis*
1»ki^ I have often omitted writing, and especiaUjr
iQ m&^ pf the law and the revenue. 3o numy are
tte iimov9itii(m9 <^ offices, and so hard it is to pla^f
«9 many titles of honour in their proper and due 9f>^
ier» wJM^ teipg dettrly j^uKht, th«y patutpt b»
x2
50^ THE RELISH OP GOOD AND EVIL
changed, nor omitted ^vithout offence. I find the
Fame fault likewise in charging the title-pages and
inscriptions of the books we commit to the press,
with such a clutter of titles.
CHAPTER XL.
That the Relish of Good and Evil depends j in a great
Measure^ upon the Opinion zee have oj' either*
2or^u*u JVIeN (says an ancient Greek sentence) are tor-
Md^ ^\^ mented with the opinions they have of things, and
not by the things themselves. It were a great point
carried for the rdief of our miserable human con-
dition, could the truth of this proposition be esta-
blished. For if evils have no admission into us but
by the judgment we ourselves mstke of them, it
should seem that it is in our own power to despise
them, or to tuni them to good. If things surrender
to our mercy, why do we not manage and accom-
modate them to our advantage ? If what we call evil
and torment is neither evil nor torment of itself,
but only our fancy gives it that quality, and makes it
so, it is in our power to change it ; and it being ia
our own choice, if there be no constraint upon us^
we are strange fools, to take part with that side
which is most disgustftil to us, ahd to give sickness,
want, and contempt, a sour nauseous taste, if it be
in 6\\T power to give them a more grateful relish^
and if fortune simply provide the matter it is for us
to give it the form,
whai rvii Now that what we call evil is not so of itself, or
u'cmfcerillat feast, be it what it will, that it depends upon us
w. to give it another taste or complexion (which amounts
to the same thing), let us examine how this can be
maintained. If the original being of those things we
fear could lodge itself in us, by its own authority, it
- DEP£ND8 UPON OPINION. 309
would lod^ein a like manner in all ; for men are uni-
versallj of the same nature, and, saving in greater
pr less proportions, are all provided witn the same
tools and instruments to conceive and to judge ; but
the diversity of opinions we have of those things,
shows clearly that they only enter us by composition:
one person, perhaps, admits them in their true state j
but a thousand others give them anew and contrary
being in their breast.
We hold death,* poverty, and pain, for our prin-Thedif-
cipal enemies ; but this death, wiiich some repute ^"^ttr'
the most dreadful of all dreadful things, who knows
not that others call it the only secure harbour from
the tempests of life ? the sovereign good of nature ?
the sole support of our liberty, and the common and
ready ren>edy of all evils ? And as the one expects
it with fear and trembling, the other supports it with
greater ease than life. That blade complains of its
facility:
. Mors tiiinam pnvidos viti suhducere noUeSp
Sed virtus te sola daret.*
O death ! I wish thou woakbt the coward sparer
That of thy gifts the brave alone might share.
But let us leave this boasted courage. Theodoras
answered Lysimachus^ who threatened to kill him,
'* Thou wilt do a brave feat," said he, " to show
" thou hast the force of a cantharides."* The
greatest part of philosophers are observed to have
either purposely prevented, or hastened and assisted
their own death. How many common people do we
see led to execution, and to a death mixed also with
shame, and sometimes with grievous torments, ap-
pear with such assurance, what through obstinacy or
natural simplicity, that a man can discover no change
from their ordinary state of mind; settling their do-
mestic affairs, recommending themselves to their
friends, singing, preaching, and entertaining the peo^
* Luc. lib. iv. ver. 58, 531.
f Clc Tusc. Quscst. lib. v. cap* W»
siO THE »fii«fi (W dtf<» Aim *va
pie s6 fim^h, ttB sometimes to sally into jedts, and tA
drink to their companions, as did Socrates !
iok^ot ^*> "^^^ ^^ leading to the gaSows, told tbeiH
fome per. they must not carrjr him through such a street, lest
^"J^„** a merchant, that lived there, should arrest him by
* the way fof an old debt. Another said to the hang-
man, he must not touch his neck, for fear of making
him laugh outright, he was so ticklish. Another
answered his confessor, who promised him that he
should that day Sup with our Lord, Do you go then,
said he, in my room ; fbr I, for my part, keep fiist
to-day. Another, having called for drink, and the
hangman having drank first, said he would not drink
ifter him, for fear of catching *the pox. Every b<Jdy
has he^rd the tale of the Heard, to whom, being
Upon the ladder, they presented a whore, telling him
(jas our law sometimes permits) that if he would
marry her, they would save his life; he having a
while viewed her, and perceiving that she halted,
** Come, tie up, tie up," said he, ** she limps.**
And they tell, also, of a fellow in Denmark, who,
being condemned to lose his heaid, and the like con-
dition being proposed to him upon the scaffold, re-
fused it, by reason the maid they offered him llad
hollow cheeks, and too sharp a nose* A servant at
llioulouse, being accused of heiesy, said only, that
he believed as his master did, who was a young £rtu>
dent, prisoner with him, and he chose rather to die
than suffer himself to be persuaded that his master
could err. We read^ that when Lewis XI. took
Arras, a great many of the inhabitants suflfered them*
selves to be hanged^ rather than say, God save thA
kinff.
BaffooBt And amongst that mean-souled raCe of men, the
wiuia^kel'^oons, there have been some, who would not leave
]^^ their fiyoling at the very moment of death. One,
"^^ ' whom the hangman turned off the ladder ^ cried,
" Launch the galley !** an ordinary saying of his.
Another, who was laid upon a bed of straw, by a fire
in which he waa to be burnt, being Hsked by the phy
w, by
by the
i>^nm)n vpe» ^fmio». ill
sictftR trfiere ha mki lay, ^ Between the bencli m^
*^ -tbe fire/' stad be ; and the pmst, td ghre him the^
extreme unctka, groping f^r Ms feet, wUcb pain had
made hinf dnm up, ^ Yoa will find them/' said he,
^* at the end of my Itm.^ T^ one that exhorted him
to reoommend him«df to Ghdd, ^ Wbd Ik going to
«« him?'* Mid he : and the other replying, '< It wiS
<* pre«etitlT he y^durself^ if it be his good pteMWct:^
^* would I were mre to be l^re to-morrow Bight)**
said he ; ^^ IX) bat recommend yourself to Urn/'
fiodd the other, ^ and you wiU 9oon be there :'' '^ I
^* had best then/' added he, ** to cariy my reoom-
^^ mendations myself.'*
In the kingdom of Narsingua, to tiiis day, thewomn
«rives of their priests^ «re buried altre with the oodies^^*^^ '
of their basbMds. All other wived are biimt at their thMdiwi
Jmsbands' fbaerafey which abo they not only eon^^^^l^
stantlvbot eheerlbUy undergo^* At the death of^<!*«**f
their king, hb wives md doncobines, hfe fiivonrites,^'^^
lail his omcers, and domestic serinants, which make
\m a great mimber of peofte, present themselves so
<:heemdly to> the fire, where his body is burnt, that
diey seem to take it fer a great hdooiir to accom*
paa^ their master in deatib.
I/nriog our lote war of Milan^ where there bap-^^i>
l^ened so oan^f takmgs and retakisgs of towns^ the^^JL! """^
people, impadent oi so mstsy vanou^ <^anges of
fortune^ took sodi a resolution to die, that! have
beard my &ther say, he there i»w > list taken of
jtwenty-five masters of fiimilies, that made away with
l&emfsdves in emt week's time : an accident sorne^ .
what resembling that <^ t^ Xanthiaiis, who, bim^
i^ieged by INttpd; .eontraicted, me^^ women, and
* tn the Indis^ says Clcevo, where k is tTie custom for a man ta
itaye severai wives, wiien th« hturbttnd dier, the wamen dispute who*^
trat his gfeatcst ftvodrite; sndihe who cwtiesthe question, is cmaM
joyed, and burnt on the same pile with her husband. Tusc. Qusest.
lib. V. cap. 27. The same custom was observed by a people of
Thrace, accoi^g t9 IJwedtfttts^ Ub. v. p. SSI; and iSSlBiU k^t up
in IndostaUf
312 TttE RELISH OF GOOD AND fiVIL
children, such a furious desire'of dying, that nothitig
can be done to escape death, which they did not put
in practice to avoid life ; insomuch, that Brutus had
much ado to save but a very small number.*
Opinions Evcry opinion is of force enough to make itself to
SSex^ntlhe espoused at the expense of life. The first article
•f life, of that valiant oath, which Greece took and observed
in the Median war, was, that every one should sooner
exchange life for death, than their own laws for those
of Persia. What a world of people do we see, in
£he wars between the Turks and the Greeks, rather
embrace a cruel death than renounce circumcision
for baptism ? An example of which no sort of reli-
gion is incapable. »
f^Twated^" '^^^ kings of Castile having banished the Jews out
byth^Por.of their dominions, John, king of Portugal, in con-
Mke'th^ sideration of eight crowns a-head, afforded them an
change asylum in his, for a limited time; upon condition
iiJIion?' th^* when it expired they should depart ; and he was
to furnish them with shipping to transport them to
Africa. The day being eiapsed, they were given to
understand, that such as did not obey should remain
slaves ; the vessels were very slenderly provided, and
those who embarked in them were rudely and villain-
ously used by the seamen, who, besides other indig-
nities, kept them cruising upon the sea, forwards and
backwards, till they had spent all their provisions,
and were constrained to buy of them at so dear a rate,
and for so long a time, that they set them not on
shore till they were all stripped to their very shirts.
The news of this, inhuman usage being brought to
those who remained behind, the greater p^ of them
resolved upon slavery, and some made a show of
changing tneir religion. Emanuel, the successor of
John, being come to the crown, first set them at
liberty ; but afterwards, altering his mind, ordered
them to quit his country, assigning three ports for
* FifW only, who were saved against their will. Plutarch, in the
Life of Marcus Brutus, chap. 8.
DEPENDS UPOK OPIKIOV. 313
their passage. He hoped (says the bishop of Qso-
rius, no contemptible Latin historian of our times)
that though the favour of the liberty he had restored
to them, failed of converting them to Christianity,
yet their aversion to expose themselves to the mercy
of the mariners, to abandon a country they were now
habituated to, and grown very rich in, and to ex-
pose themselves in strange and unknown regions,
would certainly produce the desired efiect ; but find-
ing himself deceived in his expectation, and that
they were all resolved upon the voyage, he cut off
two of the ports he had promised them, to the end
that the length and troublesomeness of the passage,
might reduce some : or that he might have an oppor-
tunity, by crowding them into one place, the more
conveniently to execute what he had designed;*
which was to force all the children, under fourteen
years of age, from the arms of their parents, tO
transport them from their sight and conversation, to
a place where they might be instructed in our
rehffion.
He says, tliat this produced a horrid spectacle j Jewithat,
the natural affection between the parents and their fo/thei^
children, and moreover their zeal for their ancient ||{^<>">
behef, contending against this violent decree, fathers tbei^iTct
and mothers were commonly seen making away with*"*" ^•*-
* Mariana, the celebrated Jesuit, says, in his History of Spain,
printed at Mentz ftom. IL lib. xxvL ctm. IS), that, by an edict of
this prince, those children were baptised by force; a cruel edict, says
the good Jesuit, altogether contrair to the Christian laws and in-
stitutes. What, he adds, shall violence be used to force men to
embrace Christiani^, and in the most important affiurof the world,
to rob those whom God has been pleased to leave to their own dis-
cretion, of that heavenly present. Liberty ! to proceed so far is a
horrible crime, as well as to force children with this view from the
arms of their pairents. The Portuguese nation, however, committed
sm in these two points, having drt^ged the children to baptism by
force, and without the consent of their parents, and having engaged
those more advanced in years to make profession of Christianity by
loading them with reproaches and injuries, and especially by firaudu*
lently depriving them of the means of retiring elsewhere, which
fbey l)ad «xpre»ly obliged themselves to grant tnem.
514 THE nrtrm or good aki} evil
themselves; and what wasF yet wcvrse, precipHatki^
their young children, out of love and compftssicm,
mto well% to avoid the severity 6i this hnr. As to^
the remainder of them, the time that had been feed
being expired, fcr want of means to transport them,,
they returned into slavery. Some turned Christhms,
upon whose faith, or that of their posterity, even to
this day, which is a hundred years since, few PcMtu^
guese rely, or believe them to be real converts;
though custom, and length of time, are much more
powerful counsellors for such changes, than aQ con*
straints whatever.
Aibifcracs In the town of Castlenau-Darry, fifty heretics^
choM ra- Albigenses, courageously suffered themselves \jb be
ther to be bumt alivc in one fire, rather than renounce their
^°nn*h " ^pi^i^^^* QMotltB non modo duct ores nostril dicH
•pibioDs. Cicerd^ sed universi etiam exercitus^ ad n&n dubkna
moriemy concurremnt ? " How often have not onfy
•* our leaders, but whole armies, ran to certain
« death?*'
Death I have seen an intimate friend of mine run eagcffy
^^^•••upon death, with a real afiection that was rooted in
his heart by divers plausible arguments, which I
could not d^possess him of, who, upon the first occa*
sion that he could do it with an appearance of ho-
nour, rushed into it without any visible reason, with
an obstinate and ardent desire of dying. We have
several examples, in our own times, of peraoas, even
children, who, for few of some little cfaastisementj
have dispatched themselves. And what sfiaff we
not fear (says one of tlie ancients to this fMupoaeX
if we dread that which cowardice itadf has ehoaen
for its refuge ? Should I here produce a lonff list of
those of all sexes and conditions, and of afi sects,
even in the most happy ages, who have either with
great constancy looked death in tlfe face, o? vcduiu
tarily sought it ; and souglrt it not only to avoid the
evils of this life, but some purely to avoid the satiety
of living, and others for &e hope q£ a better cgq^
dition elsewhere, I should never have^onCf Nay^
BEPSmM UPON OPINION. ^1^
the number is so infinite, that, in truth, I should with
more ease reckon up those who have feared it This
one therefore shall serve for aD : Pyrrho, the philo*
sopher, being one day in a boat, in a very great
tempest, singled otit those he saw the most amrighted
about him, and encouraged them by the example of
a hog, that was there, nothing at all concerned at
the storm.*
i^all we then dare to say, that this advantage of to what
reason, of which we so much boast, and upon theJJ^^JJ*^
account of which we think ourselves masters andof^binjfs*"
emperors over all other creatures, was given us ^or^^^^i^J^
our torment ? To what end serves the knowledge of
things, if it renders us more unmanly ? If we lose
the tranq[uillity and repose we should enjoy without .
itj and if it put us into a worse condition than Pjnrrho*s
hog; shall we employ the understanding that waa
conferred lipon us for our greatest good to our own
xuin, setting ourselves against the design of nature,
and the universal order of things, which require that
erery one should make use of the faculties and
means he has, to his own advantage ? Your rule is
true enough, says one, as to what concerns death ;
but what win you say of necessity ? MTiat will you
moreover say of pain, which Aristippus, HierOny<*
mus, and almost all the wise men, have reputed the
worst of evils ? And those who have denied it by
word of mouth, have, however, confessed it in ac-
tions. Possidonius being extremely tormented witih
a sharp and painful disease, Pompey came to visit
him, excusing himself that he had taken so unsea-
lonable a time to come to hear him discourse of phi-
losophy : God forbid,t said Possidonius to him, that
pain should ever have the power to hinder me from
talking, and thereupon fell immediately upon this
same topic, the contempt of pain ; but, in Uie mean
time^ his own infirmity was playing its part, and
* Diog. Laort.in the Life of Pynrho, Ub. is. Met. ed.
f. Cic. Tutc QiUBtl. Ub. iv,€ap. 25.
316 THE EELISH OF OOOD AKD BVIL
plagued him incessantly; on which he cried out.
Thou mayest do tliy worst, pain;* but thou shall
never make me say, that thou art an evil. This
story, about which they make such a cluttei^ what
is there in it, I fain would know, to the contempt of
pain ? It only fights it with words, and in the mean
tipe, if the shootings he felt did not move him, why
did he interrupt his discourse ? Why did he fancy
he did so great a thing, in forbearing to confess it an
evil ? All does not here consist in tne imagination ;
our fancies may work upon other things ; but this is
an object of which our sens<es themselves are judges :
Qiii nisi sunt verij ratio quoquB falsa sit omnis.\
Which if not true, ev'n reason must be false.
Shall we persuade our skins, that the lashes of a whip
tickle us ; or our taste, that a portion of aloes is
Graves wine. Pyrrho*s hog is here in the same case
with us ; he is not afraid of death, it is true, but if
you beat him^ he will cry out to some purpose: shall
we counteract the general law of nature, which, in
every living creature under heaven, is seen to trem-
ble under pain ? The verv trees seem to groan under
injuries. Death is only rclt by reason, forasmuch as
it is the motion of an instant :
Aviftdtf ant veniet, nihil est pnesentis in iUa^
Morsqye minus poeme, quam mora mortis habet.X
Still past or future, here no pfesent tense
Submits the fleeting object to our sense;
Peath cuts so quick the thread of life in twain.
The thought is far more dreadful than the pain.
A thousand beasts, a thousand men, are sooner dead
than threatened. That also which we principally
pretend to fear in death is pain, the ordmary fore*
* Cic, Tusc. Qusest. lib. iv. cap. 25»
f Lucret. lib. iv. ver, 4«87.
% The first verse of this distich is taken from a satirical composi-
tion which Montaigne's friend, Stephen de la Boetius, addressed to
him, and of vbich 1 quoted the beginning in ch. 27i Of Friendship,
The second is from Ovid'3 epistle, Ariadne to Theseus, ver. ^.
DEPENDS UPON OPINION. 317
runner ot it ; yet, if we may believe a holy father,*
Malum mortem ncn facit^ nisi quod sequitur mortem:
*' Nothing makes death evil, out what follows it*'
And 1 should yet say, more probably, that neither
that which goes before, nor that which follows after,
is an appurtenance of death: we accuse ourselves
fidsely. 1 find by experience, that it is rather the
uneasiness of the imagination of death, that makes us
impatient of pain ; and that we find it doubly grievous
as It threatens us with death. But reason accusing
our cowardice for fearing a thing so sudden, so ine-
vitable, and so insensible, we admit this other as the
more excusable pretence. All ills that carry no other
danger along with them, but simply the evils them-
selves, we treat as things of no danger. The tooth-
ach, or the ffout, however painful, yet not being re-
puted mortal, who reckons them in the catalogue of
<liseases ?
But let us suppose, . that in death we principally Pain tiie
regard, the painj as also, there is nothing to be^S"„\'^
feared in poverty, but that it throws us into its arms *>««• «f«*<«K»
by thirst, hunger, cold, heat, watching, &c. which it beVa^^
makes us sufier, and consequently we have nothing to «>•
do with pain. I will grant, ana ver}' willingly, that
it is the worst accident of our being : for I am that
man who the most hates and avoids it, considering
that, hitherto, I thank God, I have had so little
share of it ; but it is in our power, if not to anni-
hilate, at least to lessen it by patience, and though
the body should mutiny to maintain the soul and rea-
son, nevertheless, in a good temper. Were it not
so, who had ever given reputation to virtue, valour,
strength, magnanimity, and resolution? wherein were
their parts to be played, if there were no pain to be
defied? Avida est periculi virtus :\ "Valour is
** greedy of danger.'* Were there no lying upon the
hard ground, no enduring, armed at all points, the
noon-day heats, no feeding upon the fiesh of horses
* August, de CiTitate Dei, lib. i. cap 11. f Seneca.
filS THE WXI6R Of 0OOD AXV fSnt
and asse$, no seemg a imtn's sdf hacked to pieces,
no sufifeiiiig a bullet to be pulled out from amdngst
tbe bonesy nor the stitchiog up, cauteroing, and
searching of wounds, by what means were theadwi-
tage we covet to have ovtx the vulgar to be acquired?
It is &r from flying e\il and pain, what the sages say,
that, of actions equally good, a man should nKwt
wish to perform that wherein there is greajb labour*
Non est tnim hilarUaU^ nee lascivia^ ntc jnsuj aul
jaco cotnitc levitatUf sed scBpe etiam trUies Jirtnitatt^
et comtantia sunt beati ;* " Men are not happy by
^ muiji and wantonness, nor by laughter or je^tuig,
^' the companion of levity; but the graver, sort are
5' often so from their steadiness and constancy/'
And for this reason, it has ever beesi impossi}^ to
persuade our fore-fathers, that the victories xibtained
|)y dint <rf force, and the hazard of war, were not
more honourable than those performed in great aeeu^
fity, by wiles and stratagems :
Ltetius estf quoties magno sibi constat honesttan.f
Sptendid achievements more august appear.
By liow much more they cost the doer dear.
Besides, this ought to be our comfort, that naturally^
if the pain be violent, it is of shcMTt duration 4 and if
long, it is moderate. Si gravis^ brevis ; si iofigusj
levis.X Thou wilt not feel it long, if thou feelert
it too much ; it will soon either put an end to itself
or to thee : if thou can'st not support it, it will es:-
port thee. Memineris maximos fnorte Jiniri ; parco§
fimlta habere intervaila reauietis: mediocrium nas
esse dominos: ut si toleraoiles sint^ feramus ; $im
mmts^ k vita^ quam ea non placeat tanquam i theatre
€xeanms.% ^^ Kemember, that gpreat pains are ter-
^ minated by death, small ones have many intermis^
^^ sions of repose, 2jui that we are masters of the
^ moderate sort: so that, if tolerable, we may bear
* Cicero de Finib. lib. ii. cap. 90. f Luc. lib. ix. ver. 40^
. X doaio d« Finib. lib.il. o^jp. 29. i Cicerode Einib. llb.i<aip. 15.
DEPENDS UPON OPINION. *1»
** them ; if not, we can go oiit of Kfe as fixwn a
** theatre, where the entertainment does not please
** us," That which renders us so impatient of pain,
is the not being accustomed to place our chief co©-
Iratment in the mind^ the sole snd sovereign mi&tres^
<)f our condition. The body, saving in greater or
less proportion, has but one and the ;same course aod
Ims} wnerea^ the soul is exU'emely variable, and
9u^)ects to herielf, and to her own condition, be it
;what it will, the sensations of the body, and all other
^bccidents. We ought, therefore, to study her, to
inquire into her strength, and to rouse up her most
powerful Acuities. There is no reason, prescription^
DOT force, th^U: can prevail against her inelinatioft*
And choice. Of so many thousands of biasses that
ahe has at her disposal, let us give her one proper to
<our repose and preservation ; and then we shall not
<nly be slusltered firom all maxmefr of offence, but,
moreover^ ^putified and obliged, if we like it, with
levils and injuries. She makes her profit indifferently
of all things. Errors and dreams serve her to good
iise, as a lawful matter to lodge us in sa&ty aod con-
tentment It is plain enough that the state of our .
mind is what gives the edge to our pains and plea-
sures. Beasts, that, have no soul« Irave to their own
bodies their own free and natural sensations, which,
consequently, are in every kind nearly the same, aa
appears by the similitude of their mx>tions. If we did
not disturb, in om members, the jurisdiction titiat ap-
Detains to tiiem in. this req^ect, it would probably
be the better f<x us. Nature has ffiven them a just
and moderate temper, both to pleasure and pain ;
aeitfaer can it fail of bding just, as it is equal and
common. But ^nce we have renounced the rules of
.nature, to give ourselves up to the rambling liberty
joi our own fancies, let w at least help to bend £hem
to the most agreeable side. Plato fears our too vehe-
ment engagement in pain and pleasure, forasmuch
as it too much binds and knits the soul to the body;
whereas I am of a quite contrary opinion, and think
S20 THE RELISH OF GOOD AND EVIL
that it separates and disunites them. As an enemy
is made more eager by our flight, so pain grows
fiercest when we tremble under it. It will surrender
upon imich better terms to them who make head
against it ; a man must oppose and stoutly set him-
self against .it. In retiring and giving ground, we
invite and draw upon ourselves the ruin that threatens
us. As the body is more firm in an encounter, the
more stifily it sets itself to it ; so is it with the soul.
But let us come to examples, which are -the proper
commodity for fellows of such feeble reins as m3rself;
where we shall find, that it is with pain, as with
stones, which receive a more sprightly or a fainter
lustre, according to the foil they are set in, and that
it has no more room in us than we are pleased to
allow it. Tantum doluerunty quantum doloribus it
inseruerunt ;* ** So far as they gave way to pain, so
*' far it took' advantage of tnem." We are more
sensible of one little prick of a surgeon's lancet,
than of twenty wounds with a sword in the heat of
battle.
We pairs As for the pain of child-bearing, said by the phy-
b^aHiIg' sicians, and by God himself, to be gteat, and which
Mpported we make so great a clutter about, there are whole
mill case. jjj^jjQj^g ^^^ make nothing of it To say nothing of
the LacedaBmonian women, what alteration can yon
see in th^ wives of our Swiss foot-soldiers, except
that when they trot after their husbands, you see
them to-day with the child hanging at their backs,
that they carried y6sterday in their bellies ? and the
gipsies wash their brats so soon as they come into the
world, in the first river they meet
Eemark- Bcsidcs the many whores who daily steal their
Itencc"to children out of their womb, as before they stole
tiiii pur- them in, — ^that fair and noble wife of Sabinus, a pa-
\^^ * trician of Rome,t for another person's sake, without
* Aug. de Civit. Dei.
f A very curious hiktory is this, which you will find at Urge m
Flutarcb's Treatise of Love, ch. 34.
DEPENDS UPON OPlKtOKi S21
help, without crying out, or so much as a groan,
bore the delivery of twins.
A poor simple boy of Lacedasmon having stole artie ooo*
fox (for they more fear the shame of their folly inJ2,"J]|^^"^
stealing, than we do the punishment of our knavery),<i«iiioD»B
and having got him under his coat,* rather suflfered^**^'
it to tear out his bowels than he would discover his
theft. Another, offering incense at sacrifice, suffered
himself to be burnt to the bone, by a coal that fell
in his sleeve, rather than disturb the ceremony. And
there have been a great number, who, only for a trial
of their virtue, according to their institutions, have,
at seven years old, endured to be whipped to death,
without changing their countenance. Cicero has
seen them fight in parties, with fists, feet, and teeth,
till they fidnted and sunk down rather than confess
themselves overcome. Custom would never conquer
nature, for she is ever invincible, but we have poi-
soned the mind with shadow, dehghts, wantonness,
negligence, and sloth ;t and with vain opinions, and
corrupt manners, render it effeminate, mean.
Every one knows the story of Scasvola, that hav-AnditrMn.
ing slipped into the enemy's camp to kill their ge-jjjj^* ~
neral, and missed his blow, in order to repair his
fault, and deliver his country, he not only confessed
his design to Porsenna, the Icing, whom he had pur-
posed to kill ; but added, " That there were then in
^^ his camp a great number of Romans, his accom-
*^ plices in the enterprise, as good men as he ;" and^
to show his fortitude, causing a pan of burning coals
to be brought, he suffered his arm to broil upon them,
till the king, conceiving horror at the sight, com-
manded the fire-pan to be taken away. What would
you say of him, that would not suspend reading in a
Dook whilst he was under an incision it and of an-
other that persisted to mock and laugh, in contempt
* Plutarch, in the Life of Lycurgus, cap. 14.
t Cic. Tusc Qiuest. lib. v. cap. 17.
X Senec ep. 78.
VOL. L Y
dd2 rut iLVLUn orp good ^md eviIi
of thiB pains inflicted upon him ; ♦ so thJit liiB enraged
cruelty of his executioners, and all the inventicois of
tbrtures redoubled qpon him, one after anodier, were
spent in vain? but he was a philosopher. What
would you say of one of Caesar's gladiiitors, who
laughed all the while that his wounds were probed
and laid open ? Quis mediocris gladiator ing€nmitf
Quis vultum mutaK)it unquam ? Quis nan modo^tetit^
verum etiam decubuit turpiter? Qms cum decu*
* buissetj ferrum recipere jussuSj coUum contraxit ?t
*^ What meati fencer ever so much as gave a groan?
*« which of them ever so much as changed his coun-
** tenance ? which of them, standing or idling, did
•' either with shame ? which of fliem, when he was
** down, and commanded to receive the stroke of
* " the sword, ever shrunk in his neck ?" Let us
miention the wom'en too. Who has not heard at
Paris of her that caused her face to be fleaed, oidy
for the fresher complexion of a new skin ? There
are some who have dr^wn good and sound teeth, fiir
the sake of lisping with delicacy, or to set liiem in
better order. How many examples of the coBtiempt
of pain have we in that sex ? what can they not do ?
what do they fear to do, for ever so little hopes of an
* addition to their beauty ?
Vellere qiteis aim est albos a slirpe capillos,
Et faciem demptapelle rejerre novam.X
Who, by the roots, pluck tlieir grey hairs, and tiy
With a new skin an old &ce to supply.
I have seen some of them swallow sand, ashes, and
do their utmost to spoil their stomachs, to get pale
complexions. To get a slender waist, what racks
will they not endure of girding and cramping their
. *-If Tam not mistaken Anaxarohus is meant, whom Nioocreoo,
tyrant of Cyprus, caused to be torn to pieces without being able to
cdnquer his constancy. Diog. Xaert. in the Life of Anaxardius,
lib. ix. sect. 58, 59.
Cic. Tusc. Qusst lib. ii. cap. 17.
Tib. lib. i. eleg. 9, vcr 4:5, 46.
I
IXEEEKDS U70N OPISffffL 3^
akUs with stiff bodice^* till tbejr hanre notches in
their ribs, that sometunes ue indented into the quick
fl^, and prove mortal? It is an ordinary thing
\rtth aevem BatixxiSy at tUb da};, to wound themp
aetves in good earnest, ta gain credit to what they
declare. Of which our king relates notable examples
of what he has seen in Pcnand, and what was done
in remect to ]ti]iiself.t But besides what I know to
haTC been done of this, kind by some in France, .
when I came from that finnous assembly of the es-
tates at Bloisy I had a little before se^i a maid in
Kcardy, who,, to manifest the acdour of her promises,
as also her ccmstancy^ ga^e herself, with a bodkia
she wore in her hair, four or five stabs into the ann,
till the blood gushed out. The Turks scarify them^.
sdves much in hc»toiu: of their mistresses, and to the
end that the scar may the longer remain, they pre-*
sently dap fire to the wound, where they hold it. an*
incredible time to stop the bloody and fotrm the mark.;,
people that have been eye-witnesses of the fibct, have
both written of this to me, and sworn to the truth of
it Yea, for ten aapers, there are fellows to be found
every day, that will give thanselves a good deep slash
in the arm or thighs. I am ¥rilling, however, to have
the testimonies nearest to us, when we have most
need of them ; for Christendom iumishes us with
enough. After the e:!cample of our blessed Guide,
* These bodice, being pressed yery tight to the sides by girdles^
rendered the flesh there benumbed as it were, and ais h9i*d as tb«
homy or callous part of the hands of certain labourers. The ladies,
who exposed themselves to this racking torture, when it was the
fiuhion, laughed at their own folly afterw^ds, though it is not un-
likely that they would be all as ready to make another sacrifiQa oi
tfieir ease to their stttffo, was the fashion to be revived,
f M. de Thou says expressly, that when this prince came away
urivately from Poland, the mat chamberlain of the kingdom, whot
followed, and with much ado overtook him on the froBliw o£ Aus-
tria, haying in Y«a persuoded hin^ to tetum IwkUf Poland* qui^cl
him at last, after having promised inviolable fidelity to him, by
piercing his arm with a dagger, and then sucking the blood, to the
great astonishin^t of the Unff, to whom he memt thereby to testify
his devotion. Thov'i VMX. Iw. Iviii* at tba ywc U7f
y2
324 THE RELISH OF GOOD ANB IS^L
there have been many who in devotion bear the cro6&^
We are informed, upon good authority, that the king
St. Lewis* wore a hair-shirt, till, in ms old age, h£
confessor gave him a dispensation to leave it off;
and that every Friday he caused his shoulders to be
drubbed by his priest, with five small chains of iron,
which were always carried about amon^^t his night
accoutrements mr that purpose. Wilham, our hat
duke pf Guienne, the fiither of Eleanor, who trans«
mitted this duchy into the fiunilies of France and
England, continually, for ten or twelve years before
he died, wore a suit of armour under a religious
habit, by way of penance. Fulk, count of Anjou,
went as far as Jemsalem, there to cause himseu to
be whipped by two of his servants, with a rope about
his neck, before the sepulchre of our Lord ; nay, do
we not, moreover, every Good-Friday, in several
places, see great numbers of men and women beat
and whip themselves till they lacerate and cut the
flesh to the very bones ? I have often seen this, and
without enchantment. And they say (for they go
disguised), that some for money undertook, by tUs
means, to vouch for tlie religion of others, by a con-
tempt of pain, so much the greater, as the incentives
of devotion are more powenul than those of avarice.
Q. Maximus buried his son,t when he was consul ;
M. Cato his, when praetor elect; and L. Paulus both
his, within a few days one after another, with, a com-
posed countenance which expressed no manner of
grief. I said once of a certain person, by way of
jest, that he had disappointed the divine justice : for
an account of the violent death of three children of
his, grown up, being sent him in one day, for a
severe scourge, as it is to be supposed, he almost
took it for a particular grace and favour of heaven.
I do not follow these monstrous humours, though I
lost two or three at nurse, if not without regret, at
* Vainville's Metnourg, torn. ii. 54, 55.
t Cic TvBC. Quasi, lib. iii. cap. 88
DEPENDS UPOK OPINION. 32S
least without repining; and yet there is hardly an
accident that pierces men more to the quick. I see
a great many other occasions of sorrow that, should
they happen to me, I would hardly feel ; and have
despised some when they have befallen me, to which
the world has given so terrible a %ure, that I should
blush to boast of my constancy. Ea^ quo intelligiturj
wm in naturoj sed in opinione esse tBgritudinem.^
^ By which it is understood, that the grievance is
^ not in nature, but opinion.'* Opinion is a power-
fid party, bold, and immoderate. Did ever any so
earnestly hunt after security and repose, as Alexander
and Caraar did af)»r disturbances and difficulties ?
Terez, the &ther of Sitalces, king of Thrace,t was
wont to say, that when he had no wars, he fancied
•there was no difference between him and his groom.t
Cato, the consul, to secure some cities of Spain from
revolt, only interdicting the inhabitants of them from
wearing arms, a great many killed themselves : Ferox
gens^ nullam vitam rati sine arms esse :% '^ A fierce
^^ people, who thought there was no life without a
** war." How many do we know, who have forsaken
the calms and sweetness of a quiet life at home,
amongst their acquaintance, to seek out the hoiror '
of umnhabitable deserts ; and having precipitated
themselves into so abject a condition, as to be-
come the scorn and contempt of the world, have
.hugged themselves with the conceit, even to affec-
tation ?
Cardinal Borromeo, who died lately at Milan, in AoftereKfe
the midst of all the jollity that the air of Italy, his t^^^.
youth, noble birth, and great riches invited him to,
Uved in so austere a manner, that the same robe he
wore in summer served him for winter too ; his bed
was only straw, and the hours of vacancy from his
* Cic. Tu8C« Quaest. lib. iiL cap. 28,
f Diod. Sicul. lib* xii. cap. 15.
t Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of the ancient Kings, fifincei,
wa GenenUa.
( Tit, I'iv. lib. xxxiy. cap. 17.
18
"396 THE fiSmS 19V IjOM^ JtHD ^TIL
.-fanctitms, he csonttniKJly spent in study, upod liib
knees, havmg a li^tie Inreaui and water set by his
book, which was iiis whole cepast, asid aH the time .
he spent in eating*
Fatal acci. I know sooie who, Soft -pra&t and adunaacement,
porttdTy have consented to cndcoidoin, of which the bare
wme^cr- jiame only affrights so many people. If ike sight be
ouTgdcf/ not the most necessary of all our senses, it is at least
-the most pleasant : but the most pfeasant and most
usefiil of all our members, seem to be those of gene-
ration, and yet a great many have conceived a mortid
hatred against IJiem, merely £ir their being too ami-
:ahle : and have deprived themselves nf them, oody
-fer the sake of then* value. As much lliot^ht he of
his eyes, who put them out. The genecaUly, and
( more solid sort of men, think it a great hies^aag to
\ have many childr^i ; I, and some otJuera, think it as
/happy to be without them. And ^vhen Thales was
asked why he did not marry, he answered, ^^ became
'^ he had no mind to leave any wsae bddnd him."*
That our opimon gives l^e vahie to things, is very
manifest in a great many of these which we do not
so much regard for tiiemselves, as cm our own ac-
count, and never consider, dtfaer their virtues, or
their use; but only how dear they cost us : usthouj^
that were a part of their substanee : and we only re^
pute for value in them, not what they bring to as,
but what we add to them. By i^ich I understand,
that we are managers of our expense. As it weighs,
it serves for so much as it weighs ; our opraon will
never suffer it to want of its vsdue. The price gives
value to the diamond, difficulty to virtue, sufl^rmg
^o devotion, and griping to physic. A ei^rtain per-
!Son, to be poor, threw bis crowns into the same sea,
4o which so many came from aS parts of the wcrid
to fish for riches.
* Diog. Laertius, in the Life of Thales, lib. i. sect 96. Tbales'a
Jiisw^r admits of two very different construction^, according to the
different readings of this passage. Whether MontaigQe!s be ng|ta|
or wro9g is not my business to determine h^e.
DKFEK9& UFOK OHNIGST. S87
Epicurus says,* that to be nch is no relief from/ATarice,
but only an alteration o^ misery. In plain truth, it J]^^*^
is no want, but rather abundance, that creates ava^^from.
ride. Neither will I stick to deliver my own expe-
rience concerning this affiun I have since my child<
hood lived in three sorts of conditions ; the first,
which continued near twenty years, I passed over
without any other means, but what were accidental,
and depending upon the allowance and assistance of
others, without stint or certain revenue* I then
spent my money so much the more cheerfully, and
with so much the less care how it went, as it wholly
depended upon my over-confidence of fortune. I
never lived more at my ease^ I never found the purse
of any of my friends shut against me, ha.\'ing laid
down to myself this rule, by no means to fail of pay-
ment at the appointed time, which also they have a
thousand times respited, seeing how careful I was to
satisfy them ; so that I practised at once a thrifty^
and withal a kind of alluring honesty. I naturally
felt a kind of pleasure in paying, as if I eased my
shoulders of a troublesome weight, and from an image
of slavery ; besides that I felt a ravishing kind of sa«
tisfaction, by doing a just action, and pleasing an-
other. I except those payments, where the trouble
of reckoning and bargaining are required; fi^r if I
can meet with nobody to ease me of that burden, I
avoid them, how scandalously and injuriously soever^
all I possibly can, for fear of those little wrangling
disputes^ with which both my humour and way of
speaking are totally incompatible. There is nothing
I hate so much as driving a bargain; it is a mere
traffic of cozenage and impudence ; where, after an
hour's debate and haggling, both parties abandon
their words and oaths, for five sols profit or abate-
ment. And yet I borrowed at great disadvantage ;
for, wanting the confidence to speak to the person
jnysel^ I ventured my request on paper, which makes
* Seneca, ep. 17.
S2ft THE B£LI8R OF GOOD AND SVH.
bat a weak if any effort^ is a very unsuccessfid advo-
cate, and is of very great advantage to him who has
a mind to deny. I, in those days, more freely re-
ferred the conduct of my affairs to the stars than I
have since done to my own forecast and sense. Most
good husbands look upon it as a horrible tiling talive
always thus in uncertainty, and do not consider, in
the mt place, tliat the greatest part of the world
live so. How many worthy men have wholly aban-
doned a certainty of their own, and do so daily, to
court the inconstant favour of princes, and fortune?
Caesar ran above a million of gold more than he was
worth in debt, to become Caesar. And how many
merchants begin their traffic by the sale of their
farms, which they send to the Indies,
Tot per impelentia Jreta r*
Over so inanj storaiy seas^
In so great a drought of devotion, as we see in these
days, we have a thousand and a thousand colleges
that pass it over commodiously, expecting every day
their dinner from the liberality of heaven. Secondly,
they do not take notice, that this certitude, upon
which they so much rely, is not much less uncertain
and hazardous than hazard itself. I see misery be-
yond two thousand crowns a-year, as near as if it
stood close by me ; for besides that it is in the power
of chance to make a hundred breaches to poverty,
through our riches (there being very often no mean
between the highest and the lowest fortune) :
Fortuna vilrea est : Um^ qmim splendetj Jrangitur.f
Fortune is glass, the brighter it doth shine,
More frail : and apt to break 'tis, wbcn most fine.
To turn all our fences and bulwarks topsy turvy, I
find that, by divers causes, indigence is as frequently
seen to inhabit with those who have estates, as with
those that have none ; and perhaps it is not quite so
* Cat. epig. iv. yer. 18. f Publius Syrius, upon fortune £x Munia.
BfiPEVfis UPON opnnoK. 329
grievous when alone, as when accompanied with
riches, which flow more from good man^ement than
income. Faber est sua auisquefortun :* " Every
^ one is the maker of nis own fortune ;'' and an
uneasy, necessitous, busy, rich man, seems to me
more miserable, than he that is simply poor. In
divitiis inopesj quod genus egestatis gravissimum est :t
** Poor in the midst of riches, which is th^ worst
*' kind of poverty." The greates. and most wealthy
princes are, by poverty and scarcity, driven com-
monly to extreme necessity ; for can there be any
more extreme, than to become tyrants, and unjust
usurpers of their subjects' estates r My second condi-
tion of life was, to have money of my own ; where-
in I so ordered the matter, that I had soon laid up a
very notable sum, accorcUng to my fortune ; not
considering with myself, that that was to be reputed
having,, which a man reserved from his ordinaiy ex-
pense, nor that a man could rely upon the hopes of
a revenue to receive, how clear soever his estate
might be. " For what," said I, " if I should be sur-
^^ prised by such or such an accident ; and, afrer the
^' like vain and vicious imaginations, woidd very leam-
** edly, by this hoarding of money, provide against
*^ all inconvenience^; and could moreover answer
^^ such as objected to me, that the number of them
^^ was too infinite, that though I could not lay up
^^ for all, I could,, however, do it at least for some,
^^ and for many." Yet was not this done without
great solicitude and anxiety. I kept it very close, and
as I dare speak boldly of myself, never talked of my
money, but as others do, who, being rich, pretend to
be poor, and being poor, pretend to be rich, dis-
pensing with their consciences for ever telling sin-
cerely what they have. A ridiculous and shamefrii
prudence ! Was I to go a journey ? methought I
* Sallusty in his first oration to Ctesar de Ordinanda Repablica,
sect. i.
f Seneca, ep. 74* at the beginning, where you will see that Mon-
tmgfxe has transposed Seneca's wor£, to apply them to his subject.
^SO THE RELISH OP OOOD AND BVIL
never was enough provided :' and the more I loaded
myself with money, the more also was I loaded with
fear, one while of the danger of the roads, another
of the fidelity of him who had the charge of my
sumpters, of whom, as some others that 1 know, 1
was mever sufficiently secure, if I had him not always
in my eye. If I chanced to leave the key of my
cabinet behind me, what strange iealousies, a^ad un-
easy thoughts was I possessed wim ? and, which was
worse, without daring to acquaint any body with the
cause. My mind was eternally tauken up in this
manner ; so that, all things consid^ed, there is more
trouble in keeping money than in getting it. And if
I did not altogether a$ much as I say, yet it cost me
something to restrain myself from doing it. I
reaped little or no advantage from what I had, and
my expenses seem nothing less to me, for having the
more to spend : for, as Bion said,* ^^ The haiiy men
^^ are as angry as the bald to be pulled ;*' and after
you are once accustomed to it, and set your heart
upon your heap, it is no more at your service, you
dare not diminish it : it is a building that your fimcy
must of necessity tumble down, if you do but toucn
It. Necessity must first take you by the throat, be-
'^ fere you can prevail upon yourself to lay a finger on
it : and I would sooner have pawned any thing I
had, or sold a house, and with much less reluctance
OF constraint upon myself, than have made the least
breach in that beloved purse I had so carefiilly laid
by. But the danger was, that a man cannot easily
Erescribe certain limits to this desire (for they are
ard to find in things that a man conceives to be
good), nor stint this good husbandry so, that it may
not degenerate into avarice : men being still intent
upon adding to the heap, and increasing the stock
from sum to sum, till at last they vilely deprive
themselves of the enjoyment of their own proper
goods, and throw the whole into reserve, without
* Seneca, in his Treatise of the Tranquillity of the Mind, cap. &
UBWBNM Vm OPINION* SSI
m^hg any use c£ them at all. According to this
rule, mey are the richest people in the world, who
are set to guard the gates and walls of a wealthy
city. All moneyed men I conclude to be covetous.
Plato places corporeal or human benefit in this or*
der ; health, beauty, strength, and wealth, the last of
which, says he, ^^ is not blind, but very clear*
^^ s^hted, when illuminated by prudence.'' Diony*
aius, the son,* acted with a good grace. He was
informed, diat one of his Syracusians had buried
some treasure, and thereupon sent to the man to
bring it to him, which he accordingly did, privately
reserving a small part of it only to himself, wim
which he went to another city, where, having lost his
appetite of hoarding, he b^an to live at a more
Jiberal rate. Which Diohysius hearing, caused the
rest of his treasure to be restored to him, saying,
^ that since he had learned how to use it, he very
** willingly returned it back to him."
I continued some years in this hoarding humour, R^ mm.
when I know not what good demon fortunately put^g^J^
me out of it, as he did the Syradusian, and made ezpaiMi.
me scatter abroad all that I had saved ; the pleasure
of a certain voyage I took, of very ^reat expense,
havinff made me spurn this love of money under
fix)t, by which means I am now fallen into a third
way of living (I speak what I think of it), doubtless
miich more {feasant and moderate, which is, that I
«pend to the height of my income ; sometimes the
one, sometimes the other may perhaps excee^t
but it is very little that they differ at all ; I live
£rom hand to mouth, and content myself in having
auffident for my present and ordinary expense ; finr
as to extraordinary occasions, all the laying up in
the world would never suffice ; and it is the greatest
£>ily to expect that fortune should ever sufficiently
^rm us against herself. It is with our own weapons
* Or Dionynus the father, according to Plutarch^ in the Notable
payings of Kings, Princes, and Generals.
* SS2 TH£ BEUSH OF GOOD AKI> BTIL
that we are to fight her ; accidental ones will bebarf
us when it comes to the pinch* If I lay up, it is
not to buy lands, of which I have no need, Imt to
purchase pleasure. Non esse cu^idum^ pecurda . est :
non esse emacem vectigal est :* ^^ Kot U> pe covetous,
^^ is wealth ; not to be a purchaser, is a tribute.*' I
am in no fear c^ wanting, nor desire of augmenting ;
Divitiarum fructus est in copia ; capiam declarat
satietas :t '^ The fruits of riches lie in abundance^
^^ and satiety declares abundance." And I am par-
ticularly pleased with myself, that this reformadoa
in me has fallen out at an age naturally inclined to
avarice, and that I see myself cured of a folly so
common to old men, and of all human follies the
most ridiculous.
A fine in. Feraulcz, a man that had run through fortunes,
!h« coi^ and found that the increase of substance was no in*
JJJjPj"^ crease of appetite, either with respect to eating,
drinking, sleeping, or the enjoyment of his wife;
and who, on the other side, felt the care of his
economy lie heavy upon his shoulders, as it does oh
mine, was resolved to gratify t a poor young man,
his ^thful friend, who clamoured fqr riches, by
making him a gift of all his wealth, which was ex-
cessively great (and which he was in the wi^ of ac-
cumulating daily by the liberality of Cyrus, his good
master, and by uie war), cpnditionally, that he should
take care to maintain him handsomely as his guest and
friend ; and they afterwards lived very happily Uv
gether, equally content with the change o£ their
condition.
Anotherin- This is au example that I could imitate with all
fhe"«i^e my heart And I very much approve the fortune of
purpose, an ancient prelate, who absolutely stripped himself of
his purse, his revenue, and care of his expense;
committing them, one while to one trusty servant,
and another wliile to another, that he has spun out a
* Cic. Perad. vi. cap. 3. f Ibid, ci^ 2.
X See Xenophon, Cyropsedia, lib. viii. cap. 3, sect* 16— 9CX.
DEPENDS UPON OPINION. SS3
iDng tirack of years, as ignorant, by this means, of
kis domestic affidrs as a stranger. A confidence in
another man's virtue, is no light evidence of a man's
own; therefore, God is pleased to iavour such a
confidence. As for him. of whom I am speaking, I
see no where a better governed fitmily, or one that as
more decently maintained than his ; happy in having
stated his affidrs to so ^ust a proportion, that his
estate is sufficient to do it without his care or trou-
ble, and without any hindrance, either in the spend-
ing or laying it up, to his other more agreeable and
qiiiet emph)yments.
Plenty then and poverty depend upon the opinion wihai«ii.
everyone has of them; and riches, no more than^^*^JJJ
glory or health, have more of either beauty or orind^cett.
pleasure, than he by whom they are possessed is
pleased to imagine in them. Every one is well or iU
at ease, according as he finds himself: not he whom
liie world believes, but he who believes himself to
be so, is content ; and in this alone, belief gives
itself being and reality. Fortune does neither good
nor hurt ; she only presents us the matter, and the
seed, wluch our soul, more powerfully than she,
turns and applies as she best pleases ; being the sole
cause and mistress of her own happy or unhappy
condition. All external accessions receive taste and
colour fix)m the internal constitution, as clothes
warm us, not with their heat, but our own, which
they are fit to cover and nourish ; and he that would
cover a cold body, would do the same service for
the cold, for thus snow and ice are preserved.* In
the same manner as study is a torment to a truant,
abstinence firom wine to a good fellow, frugality to
the spendthrift, and exercise to a lazy, tender-bred
fellow ; so it is of all the rest Things are not so
painful and difficult of themselves, but our weakness
* It appears Uiat Montaigne has taken all that follow*, to the end
nf this paragraph, firom a beautiful passage in Seneca's epistle 81.
984 GOOD AND £Vlt DEPEND UPON OPlNIONU
or cowardice makes them so. To judge of great
and high matters, requires a suitable soul; otherwise
we attribute the vice to them, which is really our
own. A strait oar seems crooked in the water : it
is not only of importance that we see the thing, but
in what manner we see it. *
jie BotioD Well then, why amongst so many discourses, that
what u if" by so many arguments persuade men to despise
foimdcd. death and endure pain, can we not find out one that
. makes for us ? and of so many sorts of imaginations
as have prevailed upon others, as to persuade them
to do so, why does not every person apply some one
to himself tne most suitable to his own humour ? If
he cannot away with a strong working apozem to
eradicate the evil, let him at least take a lenitiye to
ease it. Opinio est quadam effeminata^ ac lexds : nee
in dolore magis^ quam eadem in *ooluptate : qua quum
liquescimus fluimttsque mollitid^ apis aculeum »ne
clamore ferre non possumus. — Totum in eo estj ut tibi
imperes :• ** There is a certain fiivolous and efiemi*
^ nate opinion, and that not more in pain than it is
** even in pleasure itself, by which, whilst we roD
*^ in ease and wantonness, we cannot endure so
^^ much as the sting of a bee, without roaring. The
** whole secret lies in this, to command thysdf." As
to the rest, a man does not transgress philosophy, by
crying out against the acrimony of pains, and
human frailty so much beyond measure ; for they
must at last be reduced to these invincible replies.
If it be ill to live in necessity, at least there is no
necessity upon a man to live m necessity. No man
continues lU long, but by his own fault. He who
has neither the courage to die, nor the heart to live ;
who will neither resist nor fly, what should be done
to him.
* Cic. Tuflc. Quaest. lib. ii. cqp. 2%
A UASSt^S HOKOUB NOT TO BE COMMUNICATED, 93S
CHAPTER XLL
One Mavfs Honour not to be communicated to
another.
\jT all the follies of the worid, that which is mostT««e «u»*r
tinivetsally received, is the solicitude for reputation f/*^^
and glory, which we are fond of to that degree, as
to a^ndon riches, peace, life, and health, much are
effectual and substantial goods, to pursue this vaia
phantom, this mere echo, that has neither body nor
hold to be taken of it :
La Jama cK nwaehisce a un dolce suono
Cli saperli mortaUy et pat^ si lella
' jB vn echo, un sogno, anzi d^un segno urt omhra
Ch* ad ogni vento si dSegua, et sgombraJ^
Glory, whose sweet and captivating sound
Endiants proud mortals all the world aax)and,
b but an «dio, ^ream, or pfatfintoia fiiir,
M OF*d and dispen'd by er ly breath of dr.
And of all the unreasonable humours of men, it
seems that this continues longer, even with philo-
sophers themselves, than any other, and that they
have the most adot to disengage themselves from
this, as the most resty and obstinate of all human
follies. Quia etiam bene projicicfites animos tentare
non cessat :t ** Because it continually tempts even
** virtuous minds." There is not any Mie folly, of
which reason so clearly blames the vanity, as this ;
tut it is so deeply rooted in us, that I dare not de-
termine, whether any one ever totally divested him-
* Tasso, canto 14, stanza 63, Gierusalemme iiberata. *
j| ** Etiam sapientibus cupido gloriae novissima exuitur." The
denre of gli>i[T is tfe last passion of which even wise men can divest
tbemsdvesy Tacit, lib. iv. I question whether Montaigne had this
passage in view; for it is so beautiful, that if he had tlu»ught of it.
I fancy he could not haveomitted to quote it,
i Aug. d^ Civil; Dei, 13>. v. 09^^ H«
Si6 A man's HOKOUtt
self of it. After you have said and done all yoil
can to disclaim it, it so strongly opposes your argu«
ments, that you are hardly able to resist it : for •
(as Cicero says) even those who condemn it, choose
that the books they write should bear their own
names in the front, and seek to derive glory firom
seeming to despise it. All other things are cooimu-
nicable ; in commerce, we lend our goods, and ^take
our lives for the necessity of our friends ; but to
communicate a man's honour, and to robe another
with a man's own glory, is very rarely seen. And
yet we have some examples of that kind.
Catulus Luctatius, in the Cimbrian war, having
done all in his power to stop his soldiers flying from
iiis enemy, ran away himself at last,t and counter-
feited the cowfird, that his men might rather seem to
follow their captain, than to fly from the enemy;
which was abandoning his own reputation, to hide
the shame of others. When Charles the 6Mi came
into Provence, in the year 1537, it is said, that An-
tonio de Leva seeing the emperor positively resolved
upon this expedition, and believing it would redound
veiT much to his honour, did nevertheless oppose
and dissuade him from it, to the end that the entire
glory of that resolution should be attributed to his
master ; and that it might be said, his own opinion
and foresight had been such, as that contrary to the
sentiments of all, he had brought about so noble an
enterprise ; which was really doing him honour at
his own expense,
^iimteor The Thracian ambassadors, coming to comfort
J^eli* Archileonida, the mother of Brasidas, upon the
i9M^ death of her son, and commending him so much, as
to saj he had not left his like behind him ; she re-
jected this private and particular commendation to
* ** Ipsi illi phQoBophiy etiam illis libellia quos de contenmendA
** gIori& scribunt, nomen suum inscribunt ; in eo ipso in quo pnedi-
** cationem nobilitalemque despiciunt, praBdicari de se ac nomiBwi
** volunt.*' Orat. pro ArchiA Poet6» cap. 11, edit. Gronov.
f Plutarch, in we Life of Caius Marius, cap. 8.
li'bT TO BE COMMtJKiCATED; 387
dttf ibute it to the public : ** Tell me not that," said
she, " I know the city of Sparta has several citizens
greater and more valiant than he was.** *
In the battle of Cressy,t the prince of Wales, EdwaW
being then very young, had the vanguard committed "i;^'^!?
to him, where the main stress of the battle happened the ^oDonr
to be, which made the lords that were with him, t^oijlj^hb
&iding themselves overmatched, send to king Ed* •««•
ward,t begging that he would please to advance to
their relief; who thereupon inquiring of the condi^
tion his son was in, and being answered that he was yet
living, and on horse^back ; " I should then do him
" wrong,** said the king, " now to go, and deprive
** him of the honour of winning this battle which he
** has so long disputed ; what hazard soever he runs,
^* the victory shall be entirely his own,** Accord-
ingly he would neither go nor send, knowing that if
he went, it would be said all had been lost without
his succour, and that the honour of the victory
would be attributed to his majesty. Semper enim
quod postremum adjectum est^ id rem totam videtur
traxisse : " For the last stroke to a business seems
*' always to draw along with it the merit of the
*^ whole action.** Many at Rome thought, and
frequently said, that the noblest of Scipio's actions
were, in part, due to Lelius, whose constant practice
it was, nevertheless, to advance and support Scipio's
grandeur and renown, without any care of his own.
And Theopompus, king of Sparta, when a person
told him the republic stood it out, because he knew so
well how to command; " It is rather,** answered
he, " because the people know so well how to
obey.**§
As women succeeding to peerages, had, notwith-
standing their sex, the privilege to assist and give in
their votes, in causes appertaining to the jurisdiction
* Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of the Lacedsmomans, at
the article Brasida$.
t In 1346. t Froissart, vol. i. cap. 30.
§ Plutarch, in the article Theopompus.
VOL. I. 2
SS8 A MAn^S HONOtft NOT Td B£ tOmitMCATttf^
6f peers; so the ecclesiastical peers^ notwithstand*
ing their profession, were obliged to assist oiir kings
in their wars, not only with their friends and servants^
toa^nct of but in their own persons ; as the bishop of Beauvais
SitlfuT'did, who, beinff with PhiHp Augustus at the battie
of BoiK of Bouvines,* had a notable share in that action^
but he did not think it fk; for him to participate in
the fhiit and ^ory of that violent and bloody exer-
cise. He, with his own hand, reduced seversJ of the
enemy that day to his mercy, whom he delivered to
the first gentleman he met, either to kill, or receive
them to quarter, referring the whole execution to
his hand. Thus also did William, earl of Salisbury,
to M. Jean de Nesle ; who, with equal subtlety of con*
science, would kill, but not wound, an enemy, and
for that reason never fought but with a club.t And
« Between Liale and Toumay, in 1214*
t That 18 to say, ** By a salTo of conscience, like to tfait other
^ which I just now mentioned, this bishop chose to knock on the
** head, &c/' In fact, this odier salvo, which Montaigne had just
attributed to the bishop of Beauvais, was not more frivoknis than
this, by which this same bishop made no scf-upkrto knoick those oo
the head, whom he did not choose to wound or kill with a swonL
For the bishop of Beauvais is btended in the latter case, as well as
in the former : '* At the battle of Bouvines, MezeiUy expressly
** says, Philip, bishop of Beauvais^ brother to that king, did
^ not strike with a sword^ but with a club ; thinking that loiock-
^* ing a man on the head was not spilline his blood*" — ^Mr. CoCton«
the last translator of these Essays into English, has cpnfbuoded thii
jwssage entirely ; for his not comprehending that this latter salvo
of conscience nad relation to the oishop of Beautais^ in the samo
manner as the former, instead of delivering up William earl of Sa-
lisbury to M. John de Nesle, he tells us, ** That William earl of Sa*
** liibury made use of a salvo of cpnscience, with regard to M • John
^ d6 Nesle, like to the other whom we named a^ve : he would
^ (continues Mr. Cotton) kill, but not wound him ; and for that
.** reaspn never fouglit with a mace.'* By the mannef in which this
translator speaks here of thb earl of Salisbury^ one would be apt to
say, that he only engaged in this battle to kill John de Nesle. ^ese
are Mr. Cotton^s own words. ** As also did William earl of Sal»*
** bury to Messire Jean de Nesle, with a tike subtlety of conscience to
** the other we named before ; he would kill but not wound him,
** and for that reason never fought with a mace."" — The confosioii
which I discover this ingenious translator to be in at this passage,
makes me a little diffident of myself. But though in all the e2u-
OF 1KEQUALITT4 839
a certain person of my time, being reproached by
the king, that he had laid hands on a priest, posi-
tively dented the fact ; affirming he had oidy cud«
gdled and kicked him.
CHAPTER XLIL
Of the Inequality amongst us^
J: I^UTARCH sajrs somewhere,* that he does hotfiKmo^A.
find so great a diflerence between beast and beast,' JnJg^,^
as he does between man and man. Which is said in betweeo
reference to the internal qualities and perfections of ^
tioDB of Montaigtie> which I have seetii it is said, ** With a salvo
'* of conscience like to this other/' I think I may venture to affirm
that Montaigne's expression, ** of a salvo of conscience like to this
*' other," means to this other salvo of the bishop of Beau^rais ; and
that he would have us to understand here, that by a cunnine satvo^
like to that which he had just mentioned, the same bishop of Beau-
vais was desirous to knock on the head, but not to wound ; havings
for that very reason, fought only with a club.^*-As for WDUam, earl
of Salisbury, it does not appear that he had the same scruple at the
battle of Biouvines as the bishop of Beauvais. It is certain, at leasts
that this bishop took the earl or Salisbury, and delivered him prisoner
to John de Nesle. This i» what Montaigne says very clearly, be*
fore he mentioned this other cunning salvo of conscience which en<*
gaged the bishop of Beauvais to fiffht only with a dub. And all
that Montaipie has here advanced is vety positively asserted in his«
tory. " William of Brittany,*' says John de Tillet, " in his history
^* of king Philip Augustus, makes mention of the bishop of Beau^
** vais, a prince of the blood, brother to the count de Dreux, 9
** peer of France ; who, being at the battle of Pont de Bouvines,
*' with the said Philip Au^tus, did, with one stroke of a club.
** knock down cotmt Wilbam, sumamed Longspear, the basturd
'* brother of the king of England, and commanded M. John de
** Nesle, knight, to make him his prisoner. The like did he with
'* regard to many others, whom he bid sprawling on the graund :
** forasmuch as he was an ecclesiastic, the praise of his feats of
** arms is given as it were to others, and he only chose to fight with
** a club, that he mifht demolish without killing." Tillet's Me*
snoirs, p. 220, printed at Troyes, 1578.
* At the end of hjs Treatise of Brutes having the use of Reason^
Z2
340 OF iKSaUALITT*
the soul. And, in truth, I find (according to my
poor judgment) so vast a distance between Epa-
minondas, and some that I know (who are yet men
of common sense), that I could willingly improve
upon Plutarch, and say, that there is more diflference
between such and such a man, than there is between
such a man and such a beast :
Hem ! vir viro quid prcpsiat.*
What great disparity among men we find !
And that there are as many degrees^ of wits, as there
are cubits between this and heaven. But, as touch-
ing the estimate of men, it is strange that, ourselves
excepted, no other creature is esteemed beyond its
proper qualities. We commend a horse for its
strength and sureness of foot :
■ Volucrem
Si laudamus eouumj facili cut phurima palma
Fcrvety et exuitat rauco victoria circa.f
So we for speed commend the horse that gains
Successive prizes in the dusty plains,
And which the trumpets in the circle grace,
With their loud clangors for his well-run race :
and not for his rich caparisons ; a greyhound for his
share of heels, not for his fine collar ; a hawk for her
A man to wing, uot for her gesscs and bells. Why, in like
fo/whathcinanner, do we not value a man for what is properly
has In him, his owrt ? hc has a great train, a beautiful palace, so
Vhauchaimuch Credit, such a revenue: all these are about
about him. ^{^[1, but uot in him. You will not buy a pig in a
poke : if you cheapen a horse, you have him stripped
of his housing-clothes, that he may appear naked and
open to your eye ; or if he be clothed,t as they
anciently were wont to present to princes to sell, it
is only on the less important parts, that you may not
: so much consider the beauty of his colour, or the
breadth of his crupper, as to examine his legs, eyes^
and feet, which are the members of greatest use :
* Ten Eunuch, act- ii. seen. iii. ver. 1.
f Juvenal, sat. viii. ver. 57. t Idem, ibid*
OF INEQUALITY* 841
Regibus hie mos esty ubi equos mercantiiTy opertos
* SMpiciuni, ne si fades , ni scepCj decora
MoUi fuUa pede est, empiorem inducai hiantem,
Quodpulchrm dunes, breve quod caput, ordua cervix.*
When skilful jockeys would a courser buy^
They strip him naked, head, back, breast, and thigh ;
For oft an eager chapman is betray'd,
To buy a fouqder'd or a spavin'd jade.
While he admires a thin, light-shoulder'd chesty
A little head, broad back, and rising crest.
Why,t in givdn^ your estimate of a man, do you
prize him .wrapped and muffled up in clothes ? He
then discovers nothing to you, but such parts as are
not in the least his own ; and conceals those, by
which alone one may rightly judge of his value. It
is the price of the blade that yoii inquire into, and
not of the scabbard : you would not perhaps bid a
farthing for him, if you saw him stripjped. You are
to judge of him by himself, and not by what he
wears. And as one of th? ancients very pleasantly
said, do you know why you repute him tall? You
reckon the height of the pattins,t whereas the
pedestal is no part of the stature. Measure him
without his stilts, let him lay aside his revenues, and
his titles, let him present himself in his shirt, then
examine if his body he sound and sprightly, active,
and disposed to perform its function ? What mind
has he ? Is it beautiful, capable, and happily provided
of all its faculties ? Is it rich in what is its own, or
in what it has borrowed? Has fortune no hand in
the affair ? Can it, without winking, face the lightn-
ing of swords ; is it indifferent whether life expire
by the mouth or the throat ? Is it settled, even, and
content ?§ That is what is to be examined, and by
feat you are to judge of the v^st difference between
man and man. Is he
* Hor. lib. i. sect. 2, ver. 86, &c*
f ** Equum empturus solvi jubes Btratum," ftc.-^** Homiheia
'* involutum sestifiiaaf'' Seneca, epist. 80.
X ^'QuaremagqiUfvideturf^CumbasiilluinsuainetirL'' Id.ep.T6«
f Sene^
542 OF INEQUALITY*
Sapiensjsibi qui mpemsm
Quern neque pauperieSf neque morsj ne^viacula teneni^
Mspansare cupiaimbus^ contemnere konores
Fortisj et in seijiso iotus teres atque roiundus,
Extemi neqwa valeat per Iceve morari^
In quern manca ruU semper fortuna f *
The man is truly wise that can control^
And govern all the passions of his soul ;
Whom poverty^ nor chains, nor death aflfirig^t,
Who*s proof against the charms of vam delight;
Who can ambitbn^s noblest gifts despise^
Firm in himself who on himself relies :
PolishM, and round, who runs his proper coursCj
And breaks misfortune with superior force.
Such a man is raised^ five hundred fathoms abov6
kingdoms and duchies, he is an absolute monarch
himself:
Sapiens pel ipse Jbigiijhriunam siln.f
The wise man his own fortune makes.
tVhat remains for him to covet or desire ?
Ninme tndemus
NU aliud siln naiwram ktrare, msi ni quoi
Corpore sejunctus doU^ absit, mentejruatur
Jucundo sensuj cura semoHts metuque.X
We see that nature only seeks for ease,
A body free from pains, free from disease
A mind from cares and jealousies at peace.
Compare with such a one, the common rabble of
mankind, stupid and mean-spirited, servile, instable,
and continually floating with the tempest of various
passions, that tosses and tumbles them to and fit),
and all depending upon others ; and you will find a
greater distance between them, than between heaven
and earth ; and yet so blind are we, that we make
little or no account of it. Whereas, if we consider
a peasant and a king, a nobleman and a vassal, a
magistrate and a private man, a rich man and a poor
* Horace, lib. ii. sat 7, ver. 8S, te.
f Plaut. Tri. act. ii. seen. % ver. 8^.
X Lucret. lib. ii. ver. 16, &c.
OF INEQUALirr. S48
one, there appears a vwt disparity , though theydifier
no more (as a man may say) than in their breeches.
In Thrace, the king was distinguished from hiswbmia
people after a very pleasant and odd manner : he had^^j^^
a rdigion by himself, a God too, all his own, and<ii<ts»-
which his subjects were not to adore, viz. Mercury ; SSIlIdT«
whilst, on the other hand, he disdained to have any f^ro» ^^^
thing to do with theirs. Mars, Bacchus, and Diana.* MittfMti.
And yet they are no other than pictures, that make
no essential difference ; for as you see actors in a
play, representing the person of a duke or an em-
peror, upon the stage, and immediately after, in the
tiring-room, return to dieir true and original con-
dition, of footmen and porters; so the emperor,
whose pomp so dazzles you in public, *
ScUiceij eterandes viridi cum luce sman^di
Auro mciuauniwr^ teriiurque Thalassma vestis
Assidue, et veneris sudorem exerciia poioi.f
Rings, with great emeralds, are in gold enchast^
To dart green lustre : and the sea-green vest
Continuity is worn and rubb'd to frets.
Whilst it imbibes the juice ^t Venus sweats.
if you will only peep behind the curtain, you will «■«■ ha.
find nothing more than an ordinary man, and, per-'j^e^
haps, more contemptible than the meanest or his«owa>Mi
subjects. lUebeatus introrsum estj istius bracteata^^^^
/elicit as esttX ^ True happiness lies within his"»n.
** breast ; the other is but a counterfeit felicity.'*
Cowardice, irresolution, ambition, spite, and envy^
are as predominant in him, as in another :
Non erAm gaxie, neyue consularis
Summoveihictar, mtseros iumulius
Mentis, et euros laqueatadrcwn
Tecta volantes*i
* Herodotus, indeed, says (lib. ▼. p. SSI), that the Thracian
kings worshipped Mercury at>ove all other gods, that they only swore
by him alone, and pretended to be descen&d from him ; but ne does
not say that they despised Mars, Bacchus, and Diana, the only
deities of dieir subjects.
f Lucret. lib. iy.yer. 1119, &c« % Seneca, ep. 115.
§ Horace, lib. iL ode 16, ver. 11, &c
S%«. OT mEQUALITT.:
For neither weakh nor pow't control
The wretched tumults of the soul ;
Or force those cares to stand aloof^
Which hover round ihe vaulted roof.
Care ftnd fear attack him, even in the centre of his
b^,ttalion$ :
Re ver^qtie metus komimanj cvreBqtte sequaces^
Nee mettamt soniius eamorum, nee fera tela,
Atidacterque inter regesy rerurnque potentes
FersantuTj neque Jidgorem reverentur ab auro.*
For fearsi and caresj warring \yith human hearts^
Dread not the clash of arms^ nor points of darta;
But with great kings and potentates make hold,
Spite of their purple, and their glittering gold^
t)o fevers, gouts, and the head-ach, spare them any
more than one of us ? When old age hangs heavy
upon a prince's shoulders, can the yeomen of his
guard ease him of the burden ? When lie is astonished
- with the apprehension of deaths can the gendemen
of his bedchamber secure him ? When jealousy, or
any other capricio swims in his brain, can our fine
compliments restore him to his good humour ? The
canopy embroidered with pearl and gold^ which he
lies under, has no \irtue to ease fits of the cholic :
Nee ealidce cttms decedunt corpore felres
Textilibus si inpic(uris, ostroqtie rubenti
Jajcierisy qudm si pkleia in veste cahandum est.f
Nor sooner will a bed superb assuage
The dreadful symptoms of a fever's rage,
1" han if the homely couch were meanly spread
With poorest blankets of the coai-sest thread.
Alexander The flattcrcrs of Alexander the Great possessed him
g?miitrco"riithat he was the son of Jupiter: but being one day
turir flat- wouudcd, and observing the blood stream from his
ttrers. ^Qund : " What s^iy you now,'*t said he, " is uot
.** this blood of a crimson colour, and purely human ?
* Lucret lib, ii. ver. 47, cVc. f Idem, lib. ii. ver. 3*, &c.
X Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of the ancient Kmgs, &c. ui
^he article of Akxandcr,
OF INEQUALITY. ^45
*« This is liot of. the complexion with ihat which
** Homer makes to issue from the woundei Gods.**
The. poet Hermedorus* had wirote a poem in honour
of Anti^nus, wherein he called him the son of the
sun : ^But whoever empties ray close-stool/' said
Antigonus, " knows the contrary."/ He is but a
man at best ; and if he be ill qualified from his birth,
the empire of the universe capnot set him to rights :
' ■ ■ ^— VuellcB
Hunc rapianlf quidquid cukaverit hie, rosa Jiat.f
Though mmds should ravish him, and where he goes^
In every step he takes should spring a rose.
What of all thiat, if he be 9. fool and a sot ? even in what
pleasure and good fortune are not relished without fe°J|j,]l^f
vigour and understanding : fortune «•
H(BC perinde suntj ut illm animus, qui ea possidef.
Qui uti sciij ei bona, Hit, qui nm uiiiur recte^ mala.X
Things to the owners' minds their merit square^
Good if well used, if ill, they evils ai e.
Whatever the* benefits of fortune are, they yet re-
quire a palate fit to relish them : it is fruition, ^nd
liot mere possession, that renders us happy ;
Nim domus, et fundus, turn eeris acervus, et auri,
jEgroto dommi deduxit corpore febres.
Nan animo euros ; valeat possessor oportet.
Qui comportaiis rebus bene cogitat uti,
C^i cupii, out fnetuit, jtwai ulum sic domus out res^
Ut lippum pictce tabulce, /omenta podagram.^
Nor house, nor lands, nor heaps of lahour'd ore
Can give the fev'rish lord one ipomeni's rest,
I ' Or drive one sorrow from his anxious breast :
V The rich possessor must be bless'd with health.
To reap the comforts of his hoarded wealth.
He that desires or fears, diseased in mind.
Wealth profits him, as pictures do the blind;^
Or plasters gouty feet, &c.
* Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of the ancient Kings, &c. ki
fhe article of Antigonut.
f Pers. sat. ii. ver. 38, 39.
X Ter. Heaut. act. i. ibc. 2, v^r, 21, 22. § Hor. lib* i« ep« 2^
34S OF INEQUAUrr»<
He Is a sot, his taste ia palled and flat ; he no more
enjoys what he has, than one that has a cold relishes
the flavour of canary ; or than a horse is sensible of
his rich accoutrements. Plato, therefore, is in the
right, when he tells us, that health, beauty,* strength,
riches, and aU things called good, are equally evil to
the unjust, as good to the just, and the evil on tiie
contrary the same. Now then, where either the
body or the mind is in disorder, what signify these
external conveniences? Considering that the least
prick with a pin, or the least passion of the soul, is
sufficient to deprive us of tne pleasure of bemg
monarchs of the world. At the first twitch of the
gout, it is to much purpose to be called sir, and your
majesty :
ToluSf et argento co^fiatus^ iotus et auro.\
And to abound with diver and gold.
Does he not forget his palaces and grandeur ? If he
be angry, can his being a prince ^eep him from
looking red, and turning pale, and. grinding hip
teeth like a madman ? Now if he be a man of parts,
and well descended, royalty adds veiy little to his
happiness :
SivetUri heni^ si lateri est pedibusque itds^ nil
DiuiiiiB poterunt regales aadere fnajiis.l
Who tastes the happiness fiom hoilth whieh flows,
Beaps greater bliss Uian regal weakh bestows.
He discerns it is nothing but false and counterfeit.
Nay, pef'haps, he would be of king Seleucus's opi-
nion,S that he who knew the weight of a sceptre,
would nojt stoop to take it up from the ground;
which he said in reference to the great and painful
duty incumbent upon a good king. DoubUess it
can be no easy task to riue others, when we find it
* De Legibusy lib. ii. p, 579, where this subject is handled at
large, and after a divine manner.
+ Hor. lib. i. el. 1, ver. 71. J Idem, lib. i. ep. 12, ver. 5, S.
§ Plutarch, in his tract, whether an old man ought to concern
himself with public affiurs, cf^ 1S»
OF IK£aUALITr« S47
so bard a matta: to govern ourselves. And as to the
thiqg dominicmy that seems so charming, considesFing
the frailty of hu^ian ivisdom, and the difficulty of
<Jioice in things that are new and doubtful, i am
very much of opinion, that it is much more easy and
Eleasant to follow than to lead : and that it is a great,
appiness to the mind, to have only one beaten part
to walk in, and to have none to answer for but tor a
man's self:
Ut saiiis nuiUo jdm aifparere quietum,
Qudm regere mperio res veUe.*
So that 'tis better calmly to obejr.
Than io the storms of state a sceptre sway.
To which we may add that saying of Cyrus, that no
man was fit to rule, but he who in his own worth was
superior to all those he was to govern.
JSut king Hiercm, in Xenophon,t says farther, that Kiogt not
even in the fruition of pleasure, they are in a worse |^^JJ^
condition than private men; forasmuch as the op to taste
portunities and &cility they have of obtaining it,^^"^
diminish the enjoyment :
Pingus amor, rAammcme potensy in Uedia nobis
Vertiiurf et stamacho aukts ui esca neceLl
Excessive love, in loathing ever ends.
As richest sauce the stotaiach most oflfends.
Can we think that the singing boys of die choir take
any great pleasure in their own music; they are
rather surfeited with it Feasts, balls, masquerades,
and tiltings, delight such as but rarely see, and desire
to be at such solemnities : but after frequent repeti*
tions, the rdish of them grows flat and harsh. Nay»
the ladies do not so much charm those who often
enjoy them. He who anticipates thirst, can never
find the true pleasure of driuKing. Stage plays, and
tumbling tricks, are pleasant to me spectators, but a
* Lucret. lib. v. ver. 1 12S.
t In Xenophon's Tract, enthled, Hieroii, or the Condition of
Kings.
X Ov. Amor. lib. iL el^. 19i
d4S OF INEQUALmr.
dradgery to those by whom they are perfbnned.
And this is actually so ; we see that princes divert
themselves sometfmes, in disguising tneir qualities,
to stoop to the forms of low and vulgar life :
Plerumque gratof principUms vkeSf
Mund(B(fue parvo sub lore pauperum
CcencB sine aulceisy et osiro,
' SuUicitum explicuere fimterfi^
Changes have often pleas'd the great ;
And in a cell a homely treat
Of healthy food, and cleanly dressM ;
Though DO rich hangings grace the rooms^
Or pijurpl^ wrought in Tyrian looflDU»,
Have smoothed a wrinkled hrow^ and caImM a ruffled breast*
Nothing is so distasteful and clogging, as abun*
dance. What man's appetite would not be palled,
to see three hundred women at his service, as the
grand seignior has in his seraglio ? And whai; enjoy-
ment of pleasure did he reserve to himself, who never
went a hawking with less than seven thousand fal«
coners?
Why great Besi4es, I think that grandeur is no small enemy
mcu ought to pleasures. Great men are too conspicuous, and
^rrfuuf*lic too open to every one's remark. They are ob-
conceaiing Hffed morc than others to conceal their errors, since
tbaniiidc*wnat is ouly reputed indiscretion in us, the people
brand in them with the names of tyranny, and con-
tempt of the laws. Plato, indeed, in his Gorgias,
defines a tyrant to be one, who, in a city, has licence
to do whatever he will. And for this reason, the
publication of their vice does oftentimes more mis-
chief than the vice itself. Every one fears tp be
pried into, or controlled j but princes are, even to
their very looks and thoughts ; the people conceiv-
ing that they have a right, and an interest to be
judges of them: besides, that spots appear greater,
by reason of the eminence and lustre of the place
^Uere they are seated y and that a speck, or a wart^
* Hon lib. iii. cde 29, ver. 13, &p.
L
oT iNEaUAtrrf . S49
seems greater in them, than a gash does in others^
This is the reason why the poets feign the amours of
Jupiter to be carried on in borrowed shapes ; and
amongst the many amorous intrigues they lay to his
charge, there is only one, as I remember, where he
appears in his own majesty and grandeur.
But let us return to Hieron, who com|Jains ofKiDpcow-
the inconveniences he foimd in his royalty,* in that n^^Jts^^
he could not go abroad, and travel at liberty, being ihe^r "'^^
as it were a prisoner within the bounds of his own^°"^^'
dominion ; and that, in all his actions, he was sur-
rounded with a troublesome crowd. And in truth,
to see our kings sit all alone at table, environed with
so many people talking, and so many strangers
staring upon him, I have often been moved, rather
to pity, than, to envy them. King Alphonsus was
wont to say, that, in tnis respect, asses were in a bet-
ter condition than kings, their masters permitting
them to feed at their ease ; a grant which kings can^-
not obtain of their servants. And it would never
enter into my fancy, that it could be of any benefit
to the life of a man of sense, to have twenty people
prating about him when he is at stool ; or that the
services of a man of ten thousand livres a year, or
that has taken Casal, or defended Siena, should be
more commodious and acceptable to him, than
those of a good experienced valet.
The advantages of sovereignty are but imaginary. The <
in a manner : every degree of fortune has in it some eiumr^
shadow of sovereignty. Caesar calls all the lords of gf"*)*""*
France, having free n*anchise within their own de- 1° m ".*^
mesnes, Rovtelets, or petty kings ; and, in truth, taigncs
the name of Sire excepted, they go a great length *"***
with our monarchs : for do but look into the pro-
vinces remote from court, as Brittany for example,
and take notice of the attendants, the vassals, the
' officers, the employment, service, and ceremony of
a nobleman, that lives retired from court, at his own
* In 2^iiophon'« Tract, entitled, Hieron, sect. 3.
9SQ OF iNEauALmr*
howHR in the country, and that has been bred up
amongst his tenants and servants ; and observe the
flight of his imagination ; there is nothing more royal ;
he hears talk of his soverei^ once a-year, as of a
I(ing of Persia, without taking any farther notice of
him, than as some remote kindred in his secretary's
register. And, in truth, our laws are easy enough;
so easy, that a gentleman of France scarce feels the
weight of sovereignty above twice in his life. Beal
and effectual subjection only concerns such amongst
us, as voluntarily accommodate themselves to it, and
who, by such services, aim at wealth and honour :
for a man that loves his own fire-side, and can govern
his house, without engaging in quarrels, or suits of
law, is as free as a duke of Venice. Paucos ser*
vituSf plures servitutem tenent ;• " Servitude seizes
&w, but many seize her." But that which most a£
fected Hieron was, that he found himself destitute
of all firiendship, and mutual society, wherein jthe
best and most perfect enjoyment of human life con-
sist For what testimony of affection and g€>od-will
can I draw from him that owes me, whether he will
or no, all that he ia able to perform ? Can I place
any dependance on his real respect to me, fitim his
humble way of speaking, and submissive behaviour,
when he is not at liberty to refuse it to me ? The
humour we receive from those that fear us, is not
honour; those respects are paid to my royalty, and
not to me.
Maximum hoc tegni Imrnm esU
Quod fuda domini cogiiur populus sui
Quamfirre^ tamkmdare.f
Tis the great benefit of kings, thut they
Who are by law subjected to their sway,
Are bound, in all their princes say or do,
Not only to submit, but praise it too.
Do I not see that the wicked and the^ood kiflg, he
that is hated, and he that is beloved, nas the one as
* Seneca, ep. 38» f Seneca^ Thies$. ac^. ii. fc- 1, vcTf 30, &c
Much reverence paid him w the other ? My prede-
cesser was, and my successor will be, served with the
same state. If my subjects do me no harm, it is no
evidence c^ any good affection ; why should I look
upon it as such, seeing it is not in their power to do
it, if they would? No one follows me, upon the
account of any friendship between him and me ; for
there can be no contracting of friendship, wheie
diere is so little relation and correspondence: mf
own high station has put me out of a fomiliarity witn
men : &ere is too great disparity between us ; they
follow me either upon the account of decency and
custom ; or rather my fortune than me, to increase
their own : all they say to me^ or do for me, is but
dissembled, their liberty being, on all sides, re-
strained by the great power I have over 1hem« I
see nothing about me but what is under covert and il
mask. The emperor Julian being one day applauded
by his courtiers for his exact justice :* ^' I would be
*^ proud of these praises," said he, ^^ did they cdm6
'^ from persons tnat durst condemn or disapprove
** the contrary, in case I should do it." Afi die
real advantages of princes are common to them with
men c^ the middle rank. It is for the gods to mount
winged horses, and foed upon ambrosia; kings have
no other sleep, nor other appetite, than we; their
steel is of no better temper than that we arm our*
selves with ; their crowns neither defend them from
. the rain, nor the sun.
Dioclesian, who wore a brown with great honour why ix*.
and good fortune, resigned it for the happiness of aj^|^|jJj"2J
private life: and some time after, the necessity empuc
of public affiurs requiring that he should re-assume
his chai^, he said to those who came to court him
to it, " You would not offer to persuade me to this,
** had you seen the fine row of trees I have planted
^* in my orchard, and the delicate melons I have
** sowed in my garden." - .
f Ammianus jNIarceL lib. xxvii. cap. 10.
352 OF INEQUALirift
The hap. In the 6pinion of Anacharsis, the happiest state erf
^romwl government would be, where, all other things being
equal, precedency should be dealt to the virtues,*
and repulses to the vices of men.
thevain When king Pyrrhus prepared for his expedition
ttffPyrrhii».into Italy, his wise counsellor Cyneas, to make him
sensible of the vanity of his amotion : " Well, sir,"
said he,t *^ to what end do you make all this mighty
** preparation?'! " To make myself master of Italy."
replied the king. " And what then ?" said C^eas^
. ^^ I will pass over into Gaul and Spain^" said the
other. " And what next ?" ** I will then go to re*
^^ duce Africa ; and lastly, when I have brought the
** whole world to my subjection, I will rest cmitent,
** and live at my own ease." "For God's sake,
" sir," replied Cyneas, " teU me what hinders that
^ you may not, if you please, be now in that con*
** dition ? Why do you not now, at this instant, set-"
^^ tie yourself in tlie state you say you aim at, and
'^ spare yourself the labour and hazard you must
" encounter :" ^ ^
NimirUm quia non len} norai quee esset hahendi
Ftnisj et omnino quoad crescat vera voluptas^X
The end of being rich he did not know ;
Nor to what pitch felicity should grow.
I Will conclude with an old observation which I
think very pat to the purpose :
Mores cuiquesui Jingunt fortunam.§
Himself, not fortune, ev*iy one must blame,
Since men's own manners all their fortunes frame.
• Plutarch, in the Banquet of the seven wise Men, ch. 13.
t Plutarch, in the Life of Pyrrhus, chap. 7 of Amyot*s Trans-
lation.
} Lttcret. lib. V. ¥er. 1431. § Com. Nep. in Viu Attid.
L
OF SUMPTUARY LAWS. S£S
CHAPTER XLIIL
Of Sumptuary Laws.
jL he method by which our laws attempt to re- chaa aod
guiate idle and vain expenses in meat and clothes, {iJyj^~
seem to be quite contrary to the ertd designed. ThfespUed bys
true way would be, to beget in men a colitempt of SI^"^^^
•silks and gold, as vain and useless ; whereas we addjects.
honour and value to them, which sure is a very im-
proper way to create disgust. For to enact, that
none but princes shall eat turbot, nor wear velvet or
gold lace, and interdict these things to the people,
what is it but to bring them into greater esteem, and
to set every one more agog to eat and wear them ?
Let kings (without more ado) leave off these en-
signs of grandeur, they have enough besides ; such
excesses are more excusable in a subject, than a
prince. We may learn, by the example of several
nations, better ways for the external distinction of
rank and quality (which truly I conceive to be very
requisite in a state), witliout fostering such manifest
corruption and inconvenience for this purpose. -
It is strange how suddenly, and with how much wben siik
ease, custom, in these indifferent things, establishes ^^,J^
itself, and becomes audiority. We hsd scarce worn dfspiMid in
cloth a year, for the court mourning of Henry the^'*'***-
Second, till silks were grown into such uhiversal '
contempt, that a man so clad, was presently con-
cluded to be a citizen. The sUks were divided be-
tween the physicians and surgeons, and though all
other people almost went in the same dress, there
were notwithstanding, in one respect or other, visi-
ble distinctions of men's qualities. How suddenly
are the greasy chamois doublets become the fashion
in our armies, whilst all neatness and richness of
VOL. I. 2 A
554 or SUMPTUAET LAWS«
habit fall into contempt? Let kings but begin to
leave off this expense, and in a month the business
will be done throuffout the kingdom ; and without
an edict we shall iQl follow, ft should be rather
proclaim^ on the contrary, that no one should wear
scarlet or gold lace, but whores and tumblers,
theiawi Zaleucus, with the like invention, reclaimed -the
J^^^tfarrupted manners of the Locrians. His laws
no check were,* that no free woman should be allowed any
^^^' more than one maid to follow her, unless she was
drunk : nor was to stir out of the city by n^t^ nor
wear Jewds of gold, or an embroidered gown, un-
less we was a professed whore; no men but ruffians
were to wear a gold rinff^ nor to be seen in one of
those effeminate vests of the manufacture of Mile-
tum. By which infamous exceptions, he diverted
his citizens from superfluities, and pernicious plea-
sures ; and it was a project of great utility to attract
men, by honour and ambition, to their duty and
obedience.
The cmirt Our kiugfil may do what they please in such external
Ti^V for'' reformations ; their own inclinations stand in this case
th<; French for a law. Quicfuid principes faciunt^ pracipere w-
"*^'*^"' dentur ;t ** What princes themselves do, they seem
^^ to enjoin others to do.'' Whatever is done at
court, passes for a rule through the rest of France.
Let the courtiers but discountenance those abomi-
nable breeches, that discover so much c^ the parts
which should be concealed ; those tun-bellied dou-
blets, that make us look like I know not what, and
are so unfit for the bearing of arms ; those long efie-
minate locks of hair ; the silly custom of kissing
what we present to our equals, as well as our hands
in saluting them ; a ceremony in former times only
due to princes : let them not indulge a gentleman to
* Diodor. Sicul. lib. xii. cap. 20.
t Quintiliaii pro mitite Declamat. p. 38, lib. iii. in Svo. ex Offi-
' cinA Hackiaaa, 1665.
OF 8UKFTUART LAWS. 85^
appear in a place of respect without his sword, un-
buttoned and untrust, as though he came from the
house of office ;. and let it not be suffered that, con-
trary to the custom of our forefathers, and the par-
ticular privilege of the noblesse of this kingdom, we
shall stand a long way off bareheaded to them in
what place soever, and the same to a hundred others
(so many tierces and quarts of kings we have got
now-a-days), and the like of other such vicious in-
novations } they will see them all presently vanish.
TTiese are, it is true, superficial errors, but, how-
Bver, a bad prognostic ; and it is enough to inform
tis that the whole fabric is crazy and tottering, when
we see the rough-cast of our walls cleave and spirt.
Flato, in his laws,* esteems nothing of more pet- New fash*
tiicious consecjuence to his city, than to give youth J^"'^^*^
the liberty of introducing any change in their habits, ^ ^^^
gestures, dances^ songs, and exercises, from one
form to another ;t shuting from this to that side^
hunting after novelties, and applauding the in-
ventors ; by which means manners are corrupted,
and the old institutions come to be nauseated and
despised. In all things, saving only in those that are
evil, a change is to be feared ; even the change of
seasons, winds, provisions, and humours. And ho
laws are in their true credit, but those to which God
has given so long a continuance, that no one knows
their beginning, or that there ever were others.
• lib. VH. p. 681.
f At present the wit and politeness of several European nations
consist very much in frequenUy altering the fashion of their clothes,
and in treadng those they have just quitted with insipid raillery, if
those modes are still kept up by their neighbours, or m any town of
tbecountry, remote from the capital. J^ to this human fraUty, see
Montaiigne, dL idix. of tins volume.
2a2
S56 OFSMEF.
CHAPTER XLIV.
Of Sleep.
iVEASON directs, that we should always go the
same way, but not always the same pace. And
consequently, though a wise man ought not so much
to give the reins to human passions, as to let them
turn him from the right path; he may, notwith-
standing, without prejudice to his duty, leave it to
tliem to hasten, or to slack his speed, and not fix
himself like a motionless and insensible colossus.
Could virtue itself put on flesh and blood, I believe
the pulse would beat faster going on to an assault,
than in going to dinner : nay, there is a necessity it
should '^eat and be moved upon this head. I have
taken notice, as of an uncommon thing in some great
men, who, in the highest and most important enter-
prises, have be6n loth to rise from their seat, or so
The pro- much as to shorten their sleep.* Alexander th^
S""omJ'*'^ Great, on the day assigned for that decisive battle
<reat per- with Darius, slept so profoundly and so long in the
thrh^molt morning, that Parmenio was forced to enter his
important chamber, go to his bed side, and to call him several
times by his name, in order to awake him, because
the hour of battle was just at hand.
The cmpe- The cmpcror Otho, having put on a resolution to
like caco ^^ himsdf, the same night, after having settled his
iieptjuft' domestic affairs, divided his money amongst his sef-
km^hiLi- vants, and set a good edge upon a sword he had made
•elf. choice of for the purpose,t and staying only to be
satisfied whether all his friends were retired in safety,
he fell into such a sound sleep, that the gentlemen of
* Plutarch, in the Life of Alexander, ch. 11 of Amyot's trans-
lation.
f Plutarch, in the Life of Otho, ch. 8.
OP SLEEl*. SS7
liis chamber heard him snof e. The death of this em-
peror has in it many circumstances similar to that ©f
the great Cato, and particularly this : for Cato being
ready to dispatch himself, whilst he only staiid his
hand till they brought him the news, whether the
senators he had sent away were put out from the port
of Utica,* he fell into so sound a sleep, that they
heard him into the next room ; and he, whom he
had sent to the port, having awaked him, to let him
know that the tempestuous weather had hindered the
senators from putting to sea, lie dispatched away an-
other messenger, and composing himself agaan in the
bed, slept so, till, by the return of the last messen-
ger, he had certain intelligence they were gone.
We may here further compare him with Alexander cato'i
too, in that great and dangerous storm that threat- }^°?j"*^j;^
ened Cato by the sedition of the tribime Metellus, fore a po-
who, attempting to publish a decree for tlje calling J^^^^^*;~
of Pompey with his army into the city, at the time
of Catiline's conspiracy, was opposed only by Gato^
so that very sharp language and bitter menaces passed
between them in the senate about that affair ; but it
was the next day, in the forenoon, that the contro-
versy was to be decided, when Metellus, besides the
favour of the people, and of Caesar (at that time of
Pompey's faction), was to appear accompanied with
a rabble of foreign slaves and desperate fencers; and
Cato only fortified with his own courage and con-
stancy ; so that his relations, domestics, and many
good people were in great apprehensions for him ;
and some there were, who passed the whole night
without sleep, eating, or drinking, because of the
manifest danger they saw him exposed to ; for which
his wife and sisters did nothing but weep, and tor-
ment themselves in his house ; whereas he, on the
contrary, comforted every one, and after hiaving
gupped in his usual manner, went to bed,t and slept
• Plutarch, in the Life of Cato of Utica, oh. la i U. ibid. <*• &
_J
ft5» Qf«USEP«
prcrfbuAdly till monung, that one of his feUow-tri*-
Dunes roused him to go to the encounter. The know-*
ledge we have of the greatness of this man's courage
from the rest of his life» may warrant us to pro*
nounce, that his indifference proceeded from a soul
so much elevated above such accidents, that he dis-
daiiied to let it take any more hold of his thou j^
than any other ordinary adventure.
Prbfoand In the uaval victory that Augustus won of Scxtus
A^^s Pompeius in Sicily, just as they were to b^n the
jmi before j^t he was so fast asleep, that nis friends were oom-
• «»ii*«- pelled to wake him to give the signal of battle:* and
thk was what gave Mark Antony afterwards occamn
to reproach hmi, that he had not the courage^ so
much as with open eyes, to behold the order of his
* battle, nor to mce the soldiers, till Agrippa had
brought him news of the victory he had obtained
Over his enemies.
But as to young Marius, who did much wwae (fot
the day of the last battle, against SyUa^t after he had
marshalled his army, and given the word and the
signal of battle, he laid him down under the shade
of a tree to repose himself, and fdl so &at adeep,
that the rout and flight of his men could harmy
awake him, having seen nothing of the %ht)> he is
said to have been at that time so extremely sprat,
with labour and want of sleep, that nature could
hold out no longer. Now, upon what has been said,
tiie ph3rsicians mar consider whetbw sleep be so
necessary that our lives depend upon it : for we read
that king Perseus, of Macedon, being prisoner at
Rome, was killed bv being debarred from sleep ; but
Pliny instances sucn as have lived long without steep.t
Herodotus speaks of nations, where Uie men sleep
* Suetonius, in the Life of Augustus, ci^. 16.
f Plutarch, in the Life of Sylla, cap. 1&
X He mentions but one instance thati find, which is of Msecenas,
who, he says, for the ]aat three years of his life had not one mo^
neon's sleep. Nat. Hist. lib. vii. cap. 52;
OF TH£ BATTL£ OF BREUX. 959
and i^ake by half years.* And they who wrote the
life of Epimeiudes afiirm, that he slept jOfty^seveo
years together.t
CHAPTER XLV,
Of the Battle of Dreux.
VJUR battle of Dreux* is remarkable &r severdl
uncommon accidents : but such as do not much &-
vour die reputation of the duke of Guise, say he
was to blame for making a hsdt, and delaying time
with the forces he commanded, w.hilst the constable,
who was general of the army, was raked through
and through with the enemy's artillery : and that he
had much better have run the hazard of charging
Che enemy in the flank, than staying for the ad*
vantage of falling in upon the rear, to suffer so great
a loss.
But, besides what the event demonstrated, who-vicury,
ever will consider it without prejudice, will, I tliink, p'S aliJ^Jf
easily be induced to confess that the aim and design, tiiesenerai
not of a captain only, but of every private soldier, soldier!'^
ouffht to be a victory in general ; and that no parti*
cubr occurrences, how nearly soever they may con-
cern his own interest, should divert him from that
pursuit. Phildpcemen,§ in an encounter with Ma^
chanidas, having sent before a good strong party of
* Herodotus speaks of this obIj by liear-saj, and positively de*
daces be did not believe it, lib. iv« p. 264. But perhaps he took this
story in too literal a sense, and that it was intended for no other than
a hint to him, that the people who live under the pole, are deprived
of the light of the sun for six months in the ^ear, but enjoy it for
the following six months ; ivhich is very true, if there be inhabitants '^
in that part of the globe.
f Diogenes Laertius, in the Life of Epimenidesy lib. i. sect. 109,
X It was fought anno 1562, in the reign of Charles IX. and woo
by the conduct and valour of the duke of Guise.
^ P)utarcb, in the Life of Philopoemeny cap. 6f
360
Battle of
Agesilaos
ivitb (he
BoeotiAiu.
Of THE BATTLE OF DBEUX.
his archers, to begin the skirmish, which were routed
by the enemy, the pursuers pushing on their- victory
near. the corps where Fhilopoemen was, though his
soldiers were impatient to fall